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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379706">We want to see what's next.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drumthis/pseuds/Drumthis'>Drumthis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Da Vinci's Demons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:27:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379706</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drumthis/pseuds/Drumthis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Giròlamo Riario has found refuge at his cousin's, Giovanni, in Sinegallia. An extraordinary encounter is about to change his plans in a drastic manner...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leonardo da Vinci/Girolamo Riario</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Santa Maria de Pignotto</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379562">Voir ce qui arrive ensuite...</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drumthis/pseuds/Drumthis">Drumthis</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The dates I use are of course wrong... our Gregorian calendar was only adopted at the end of the sixteenth century... Before that, the New Year began in September ! Sorry for the liberty I’m taking with this. 😉</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was, after all, only the Adriatic!</p><p>The man standing on the beach, hands folded behind his back, staring in vain at the horizon, couldn’t expect its waters to match the restlessness that reigned within him. Soft and blue like the gaze of one of Botticelli’s angels, it spoke of calm and routine, while he yearned for the daring Atlantic, the fighter— on its own, as vast as a world.</p><p>The spirit of the man in black, however, would have been attuned to this marine peace, because he had just settled all his accounts at once, with just his bare hands. The tumult that had reigned over his conscience since his childhood had fallen silent, precisely at the moment his father’s body was slowly sinking to the ground. Quite unexpectedly, this fortress of torment in his mind turned out to be a vulgar sand castle and collapsed along with the corpse of the odious individual, who had forged him into a murderer, a servant, blind to the true nature of God.</p><p>Yes, his conscience was finally freed from the permanent struggle between what he sensed to be right and the will of the church. But his body, for its part, dreamed of swell and action. This body, which he had deliberately offered to the vengeance of Lorenzo de’ Medici; which, in his senseless quest for redemption, he had exposed to the blows of all, wanted to regain the upper hand and, from mere “thing“, to become once again the powerful instrument it had been.</p><p>But, on the other side of the horizon, lay not the New World. He turned his back on it and went to fetch Dante, his superb Friesian: "We’re back to Giovanni’s, Dante. For you, it’s almost time for lunch! "he said to his horse, patting its strong shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>In the middle of its pine trees, Santa Maria del Pignotto seemed to be hiding from the world, modest, silent.Was the God of small churches sweeter than the God of the Vatican? When Giròlamo Riario got off his horse, he blamed himself for this offensive thought. God was not just some conceited courtisan tuning his mood to his dress or his home. Whatever the Roman Church would have us believe, God was no less imposing here than in the midst of the Vatican's splendor!</p><p>He entered, picked up holy water with his fingertips and signed himself before the great rustic cross.</p><p>No sound. Not even a whisper of prayer or conversation, not even the slightest rubbing of cloth. The silence penetrated you through the skin, here it possessed a materiality perceptible to even the most skeptical. For the believers, it was enveloping.</p><p>The Count knelt down on a kneeler, took out his rosary from under his doublet, intertwined his fingers and started murmuring a paternoster.</p><p>The first crack of voice resounded from "on earth as it is in heaven", then tore the silence in a whine that came from the confessional.</p><p>Frowned eyebrows, Riario glanced at the gray curtain, as if he was trying to slit it with reproach. Who could have had the idea of coming to confession with an infant!</p><p>He tried to resume his prayer from the beginning, closing his eyes for more concentration, but the whimpering had increased and continued for many more minutes. In the confessional, it must have been perfectly impossible to hear each other.</p><p>Now furious at this lack of respect for elementary conventions, he stood up, determined to break the law of confessional secrecy himself, and, at military pace, stepped toward  the curtain that was supposed to offer anonymity to the confessor to shout : "What kind of confession do you think you are offering to our Lord in such conditions? »</p><p>No answer.</p><p>Or rather, yes: higher-pitched crying, bordering on panic.</p><p>He opened the curtain with a sharp blow and lost his superb“ Avenging Angel of God" countenance. Eyes widened, mouth open, he discovered the innocent heretic who was disturbing the peace of the little church. In his wicker basket, like Moses, he was now silent and stared at him in the same astonished manner.</p><p>The man could not hold back a burst of laughter: "And who can you be, to have so much to say? "he said, in a rocky voice.</p><p>He lifted the basket off the ground and carried it away. Fortunately, whoever had hidden it there had had the presence of mind not to put it on the narrow board where the confessors used to kneel.</p><p>In the dim light coming from the door, he saw a stiff white triangle pointing between the thick blue cover and the side of the basket.</p><p>A message.</p><p>He froze as he felt his heart stop and suddenly fall into his boots.</p><p>"That's how we found you, my darling, at the door of the convent... You had those eyes, already, that seemed to be eating the whole world..." The voice of Sister Maria Lucia.</p><p>That voice!</p><p>His gaze became blurred, breathing seemed to be lacking... He could barely decipher on the paper a message that was nonetheless most cryptic: "Born in Sinegallia on November 15, 1480, unbaptized. Teach her that I loved her, in spite of this imposed sacrifice. »</p><p>November 15th!</p><p>Had his own mother been in the same state of mind, when she had laid down her burden at the sisters' door?</p><p>The infant reminded him of the realities of the moment by expressing a will in the universal language of gibberish.</p><p>"We'll take care of you, baby! "promised Riario as he took the basket to the sacristy. Even a small church like this must have had a priest after all.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>« And what are you going to do with that child, damn it, Girò! "Giovanni della Rovere scolded a few hours later.</p><p>He knew that his cousin had lost his mind lately, but thought that Da Vinci's treatment had cured him! As proof, he had finally decided to do away with the infamous Uncle Alessandro!</p><p>This must have been a relapse. He had to be made to see reason. But instead of grasping his message, Giròlamo seemed to be obstinate:</p><p>- Don't you see the sign? Come on, Giovanni! It's an outstretched hand... who would I be to refuse it?</p><p>- Just because she was born the same day as you? Or because you found her in a church? Wake up, Riario... You've  been living for more than three years in a world haunted by mysteries and senseless quests, but now this is the plain reality: you're alone and you no longer have any function or support... Unless, of course, you're finally ready, as I've already advised you so often, to pledge allegiance to our uncle Francesco, whom you've just put back on the throne of St. Peter!</p><p>- And you, you know very well that it is not for nothing if they were twins... this one is not much better than that one!</p><p>- So... ?</p><p>Giovanni took advantage of this short break to serve them a glass of wine.</p><p>- So, I change my identity, I have this child baptized under my new name and I take her away from here, together with your maid and her baby daughter, if at least she wants to.</p><p>- I think she wouldn't mind... But where to, Girò? You are known in all the seigniories of Italy, may I remind you.</p><p>- I am known by name and by what used to be my function, not otherwise!Who would see the Captain General when the Pope was shining his almighty light on the courts he visited?I was a shadow, nothing more, admit it!</p><p>Giovanni stared at him in disbelief:</p><p>- You're joking, right?</p><p>- I'm not joking at all.</p><p>The tall condottiere sat down, keeping his onyx-green eyes glued to his cousin's:</p><p>- Are you saying this because it suits you to believe it, or are you really unconscious?</p><p>- I... No, I'm speaking frankly. If tomorrow I were to meet any of the cardinals or princes I might have come across, dressed like the people in the street, none of them would recognize me. My uniform might have attracted attention, but not me. Believe me, all these people have already forgotten my face! »</p><p>Giovanni chose not to disabuse him and tried to repress the smile that was coming to his lips. He could hardly believe it.</p><p>No one, nowhere and never, could forget his cousin's gaze, which could be terribly icy, overwhelmingly sweet, but, in any case, of unmatched intensity.</p><p>But, since the main interested party lulled himself into illusions of anonymity, how could he be convinced?</p><p>« Listen, Girò, I suggest you think about it for another month. Weigh the pros and cons, consider your options, yours as well as the one that common sense would suggest... We'll talk about it then. But, please, stay away from that child, impose this restraint on yourself so that you can make your decision without any interference from the tenderness one can easily feel in presence of a child... Please promise!</p><p>Giròlamo scratched the top of his hand, squeezed his lips a few times, but ended up looking his cousin in the eyes :</p><p>- All right, then. I don't want her to be a kind of lifeline for me. For her sake, I want to think about it for as long as it takes. In a month, I will make my decision... and I will try not to spend too much time with her. But it is imperative to baptize her, in spite of everything, you know that as well as I do.</p><p>- I agree. We will hasten things. The good parish priest of Santa Maria del Pignotto happens to be a friend of mine. »</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Atalante.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Our mischievous Leo is having much trouble coping with the recent losses... He tackles things, as always, in his very own way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leonardo had been eyeing the young musician playing at The Barking Dog tonight the whole evening and Zo was grumbling, with each tarot card he flipped. They told no good, not a single one of them had something positive to reveal ! <br/>« The way things are going, you’re going to wear him out to the bones and strain your eyes in the process ! he griped<br/>— Wh… What ? Bir… Bird  uv eaven. Leo attempted, inarticulate, trying in the same time to focus his vacillating gaze on Zo.<br/>— Seems too familiar to be heaven-sent, if you ask me. The high cheekbones, the thin nose and refined bearing… <br/>— V.. Vwhat ’n earth ‘re you tal…<br/>— I’m talking about  the music guy you’ve been drooling over all evening… He’s another copy of someone we both know. Stop it, Leo. Right now : the poor guy doesn’t have to pay for your dark angel’s absence. <br/>He collected his cards, got up and reached out a helping hand :<br/>— Come one, we’ve both had enough for tonight… I bet you cannot even stand ! Let’s go home.<br/>Leo frowned and raised his chin in defiance, which, combined with the squint, was far more comical than impressive :<br/>— N… No, sir ! I’m… I hav’ plans.<br/>— I’m sure you have, you vile smut tracker, Zo laughed, but listen to a good friend’s advice : you won’t be of any use to your prey tonight. You’re drunk enough to ruin your glorious reputation in a simple kiss… Come, look him up tomorrow if you wish, but tonight, leave the poor boy alone.<br/>Leo’s frown had changed, he was considering Zo’s wise calculation.<br/>He finally moved, showing some intention to get up. Zo took his arm and lead him out, noticing the handsome lute player’s discreet smile.<br/>Unfortunately, the bastard was attractive enough to linger on Leo’s mind. Zo knew he would remember him, sooner or later. </p><p>***</p><p>The next morning, Sophia found her brother lying on the ground next to the fire and gave the pile of ragged and dirty clothes a raging look. What a waste!<br/>A genius? Yes, indisputably, but a brain bathed in alcohol, whether sharpened or not, simply cannot function.<br/>Leonardo drowned his sorrow every night at the Barking Dog or, even worse, in that place of perdition held by that Madame Singh!<br/>She didn't blame him, on the contrary, she was sad for him: losing his father and the woman he loved so brutally and in such a short time was not an easy thing to deal with. But she was furious at the fate that befell such a generous and endearing man instead of taking on the scoundrels that populated this world.<br/>She set the table, so that when he woke up he would find a welcoming place, a table at which one would want to sit, eat, talk...<br/>That's when Zo arrived, disturbing all her plans for tidiness and minimum pageantry. Zo used to help himself, eating with too much appetite to care about decorum. When he had passed by, the tablecloth was strewn with breadcrumbs, often covered with seeds, leaves, bark or fruit stones... One could consider oneself lucky if he didn't spill a part of his glass of beer or wine...<br/>But how could you hold it against such a devoted friend?<br/>"How was the evening, she asked him, with fear in her stomach. Recently, Leo had started a lot of fights or jumped at the chance if one came up.<br/>- He's got himself a new crush, I think.<br/>Sophia raised her hand to stop him:<br/>- No. I'd rather not know! Does he really need to bring all his conquests home? Damn it! Here, you never know what sight you're going to fall upon when you jump out of bed!<br/>- The young guy is a musician, pretty damn good-looking... If only it could make him want to paint again, I, for one, would rather be happy!<br/>-  Come on, he's not ready yet! It's not even four months since Lucrezia died!<br/>Zo said nothing. He didn't want to reveal any of his suspicions to Sophia. She would learn soon enough, if she met the handsome musician, that Lucrezia was not alone behind her brother's melancholy. She had seen enough sketches and drawings of the Count that the resemblance stood out for her as well.<br/>« Who is it? she had asked her brother at the time.<br/>Leo had remained evasive, without minimizing the importance of this relationship between them — how could he, there were dozens of sketches of Riario!<br/>- A friend.<br/>- Will I ever meet him?<br/>He had turned gloomy:<br/>- I don't think so... He must have left Rome and maybe even Italy by now. »<br/>Yes, thought Zo as he recalled the conversation, with all the rumors about an assassination at the Vatican, knowing what he and Leo knew about the twin popes, there was little doubt that Francesco della Rovere had regained his rightful place... and that Riario was not innocent for this.</p><p>**</p><p>No sooner had Leonardo got up in the middle of the afternoon than there was a knock on the door. He grumbled and, barely opening his mouth, asked Sophia to go and open and not to let any patron or creditor in.<br/>The man who was standing in front of her when she opened the door did not seem to belong to any of these categories, so she stepped aside to let him in.<br/>Slim, elegant, dressed in a garnet purple doublet, he was carrying a bulky case in his left hand. He walked over to the table where Leo was having his lunch of fruit and bread.<br/>"Maestro Da Vinci! My name is Atalante Migliorotti. I saw you leaving the Barking Dog in bad shape this morning and I wanted to check in on you...<br/>Leo stared at him with a slightly silly look, his gaze lost in the crystalline blue eyes of the visitor:<br/>- I... It's a great honor for me, Master Migliorotti... you play with angels, you know? I haven't seen or heard anything so beautiful in months! Sit down and use whatever you want!" he said, with a wide gesture to point out the dishes laid out there.<br/>The young man smiled broadly and joked with an unequivocal expression:<br/>- Do I really get everything I want?<br/>Leo burst out laughing. It had been a long time since a stranger had been so bold:<br/>- We are not stingy with beautiful young people... It's all yours!<br/> Atalante took a piece of bread without taking his eyes off his host, then bent down to open the case that he had delicately rested against his chair and took out his lute:<br/>- Did you hear a tune yesterday that you would like more than the others?<br/>- Are you going to play for me?Without being able to explain it, Leo suddenly felt his throat closing and tears coming to his eyes.A sudden, treacherous emotion seized him on this favor of the young stranger.  A song, just for him! <br/>- Yes... And I'll choose "Tristezza". »</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Moods.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Seven months later - Giròlamo (now officially Della Rovere) is learning a lot by his new lifestyle... including a manner of peaceful joy. Atalante, on the other hand, cannot help but worry : doesn’t his beloved artist like his face ?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>August 1481 Calabria</p><p> </p><p>The dog was snoring under one of the olive trees..On hot days, its thick coat and slight overweight reduced him to a large cushion, hardly likely to go and chase wild rabbits. To the point that the rabbits would come and go with impunity, right under his nose, as if to taunt him.From time to time, Zo would open an eye and sigh deeply enough to split the trunk of the olive tree, but then the dog was reasonable : he admitted he was in no condition to hunt at all.</p><p> </p><p>Giròlamo smiled, imagining for the umpteenth time Masini's reaction if he only knew that his fiercest opponent's dog was named after him.</p><p> </p><p>He resumed grape picking for tonight's meal.At this time of year it was still relatively quiet in the vineyard, but in a fortnight's time it would no doubt resound with the high-pitched fits of laughter and exclamations of the children and young women from the surrounding area who would gather for harvest.</p><p> </p><p>It was a school of simple life, of basic tasks and pleasures, of relationships free of formalities. His natural curiosity eagerly absorbed all of this modest but essential new knowledge.</p><p>Since six months that they had settled here, on this small Calabrian land, with the nurse and the two babies, he found himself marvelling at little things he had never been aware of, of which he had been ignorant until now. In a world where everything is due and given to you, what belongs to the realm of everyday life only seems banal and uninteresting.</p><p>Sometimes Filomena was startled to hear a scream or swear from the workshop - no matter how skillful you are at handling blades of any kind, the hammer is still an essentially brutish object and the saw a rather treacherous one. But the furniture he made was even more appreciated.</p><p>Likewise, a few poultry and farm rabbits had unknowingly narrowly escaped death for having thwarted the Count's will.In spite of the serenity with which he was surrounded today, his character remained a little lively and he would probably never learn how to deal with failure or petty annoyances.</p><p>Luckily, his anger in the field was as brief as it was virulent, sufficed to manage to stay a little bit aside in such moments... something Filomena had quickly integrated.</p><p>She had no regrets at all about having replaced the service of one Della Rovere with that of another, for while both cousins knew how to be patient with their servants, Duchess Della Rovere, daughter of Federico da Montefeltro, had been quarrelsome and excessively fussy.</p><p>And then there was Lucia, the child found in Sinegallia, now the legitimate daughter of the Count. Nine months, one less than her own daughter, , almost a twin to her Carmina... in a more determined version, much less patient. She didn't make astrologers lie either: when a Scorpio wanted something, it was right away, or beware of the inevitable fit! Filomena hoped that her father would not indulge her every whim over time, or she would become unmanageable.</p><p>When Zo flapped his tail and raised his head to look in the direction of the house, Giròlamo knew that the nurse and the little ones were coming. He moved his basket a few metres away, heavy with his harvest, and straightened up to look at them too.</p><p>The tall brown woman smiled, as always, a baby in each arm, a small jute bag hanging from her shoulder: lemon water for him, a flask of water for the dog. No animal, be it of the human race, would ever suffer from thirst or hunger, thanks to Filomena.</p><p>"Guess what I did when you left the house, Your Highness ! Her pearl teeth contrasted with the intense tan of her matt skin ... Something you love above anything else.</p><p>Giròlamo caught himself salivating almost as much as Zo when it was time for  roast chicken. He moistened his lips with greed :</p><p>- Panpepato? I thought there were no more sultanas left!</p><p>- I thought so too... I had forgotten that there was a second box hiding in the back of the buffet. You'll have some for your birthday too, Sir ! she announced, content, puttingdown the two children in the shade of the vine, well wrapped up in their sheets.</p><p>Zo came immediately to lie down in front of the babies, a determined barrier against any possible predator, real or imaginary.</p><p>- What do you think he imagines as a threat against our daughters, Mena? the Count smiled.</p><p>- Anything, Sir, if you ask me... A common grasshopper might look suspicious to him. You have made a good purchase with this beast: a real bodyguard! He would dismember anything that would threaten his protégés.</p><p>The Count had a brief burst of laughter:</p><p>- It must go with the name: the Zo I knew would do the same for his friend: I almost died for it!</p><p>- Then he's a good man.</p><p>- Mena! Would you dare to say that he would have been right to gut me like a vulgar rabbit? he teased.</p><p>- Forgive my frankness, Your Grace, but if you were to attack this friend, then yes!</p><p>- Nothing of the sort, rest assured. Quite simply, he was like our brave dog, suspicious and very imaginative. But, yes, I suppose you could say he is a good man. »</p><p>Filomena detected a hint of melancholy in his voice and in his gaze, fixed on the dog without really seeing it. However, although she was dying to learn more, she knew where she belonged and did not push familiarity to the point of indiscretion. She was already of the opinion that her new master was not taking the proper distance between masters and servants seriously enough. According to social norms, he should have been stricter and more aloof.</p><p>"Will you stay out until this evening, sir? she asked.</p><p>- Yes, I will. I've brought a book with me. The making of the furniture and the various repairs left me little time for reading and I intend to re-read Dante in the light of what I have observed in recent months. I'm afraid I no longer completely agree with his version of purgatory!</p><p>She frowned, hesitated, and then, conforming to her direct nature, threw herself into the water:</p><p>- Purgatory is just a warning, sir. I don't believe that the Lord would punish little children because they died before they were baptised, nor even all those brave people who died before the birth of Christ... If we now have to pay for faults that are not ours, where is this world heading?</p><p>Giròlamo smiled:</p><p>- My God, but you do blaspheme, Mena!</p><p>- You too, when you hit the hammer on your thumb, that doesn't make you a bad man! And believe me, the God I know will not send you to purgatory for so little!</p><p>- Then yours and mine must be the same... Will you let me have the girls until tonight?</p><p>- Yes. They are satiated and changed, they should sleep like marmots... Unless a monstrous grasshopper comes to drain them of their blood! "she concluded, chuckling, before going back home.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Firenze.</p><p> </p><p>People were running and shouting in the street. The city guards must be chasing one or the other evildoer and themselves be chased by the angry people.</p><p>It had almost become a daily routine nowadays. For almost a year, the citizens of Florence had been questioning every decision of Lorenzo di'Medici and, in direct line, every intervention of the guard. It seemed that Lorenzo's legitimacy was losing ground fast.</p><p>The phenomenon was no longer an event, this kind of uproar had become commonplace, so it was not in any way related to Atalante's present concern.In truth, he had been feeling uneasy for some time, but on that torrid day in August he had reached the peak of his impatience:</p><p>"What do you have against my face, Nardo? Be frank, I will not hold it against you.</p><p>Leo appeared from behind his painting, frowning:</p><p>- What are you talking about now?</p><p>- You've painted and drawn everything about me: my feet, my hands, every part of my body, except my face!</p><p>- I... you're talking nonsense! You have the most beautiful face I've seen in months.</p><p>- Well... I doubt it, you know! I guess I'm too thin, too angular... not what painters like, I suppose.</p><p>Leo was still looking at him, hands on his hips now:</p><p>- You're wrong. Your face has character and I hate the cherubs that I am constantly commissioned to paint, or else these portraits so smooth and composed that you would confuse them all.</p><p>- Botticelli...</p><p>- Sandro Botticelli is a lackey who only paints what they want him to paint. If a duplicating machine existed, he would just have to use it to honour all his orders, he wouldn't need to touch a brush in the rest of his life!</p><p>Atalante saw the revolt rising. He should not have mentioned Botticelli, whom Leo had always hated.</p><p>- Very well! It's nice to believe it, after all!</p><p>Leo muted his anger. It wasn't Botticelli who was standing there, but the superb Atalante, who had been soothing his days and nights for more than six months. It was well worth a slightly dishonourable - and slightly adapted - admission:</p><p>- I cannot grasp your expressions and your gaze, my beautiful luthier, they flee from me. Think of it like an instance when a melody escapes you, or when the materials rebel when you try to make your instruments, see.</p><p>- Yes... But... have you really tried? I've never yet posed for you to draw just my face, Artista.</p><p>He saw Leo stiffen his whole body, and read something in his features and in his eyes that bordered on  panic. He spluttered :</p><p>- Don't ever call me that.</p><p>- I... It just came to me. I don't put any contempt in it, Nardo, I hope you know that much!</p><p>- Don't put anything in it, whatever comes to you. Just don't ever call me that again, that's all!</p><p>Atalante was stunned. The voice of his lover had suddenly sounded out of tune. He must have hurt him, quite involuntarily:</p><p>- Sorry!" he said, quitting the pause to approach him.</p><p>- No ... Later, please. Wait a bit. Give me a little time... Here, why don't you go home and keep yourself busy? You've got your own assignments too and as for me, I don't feel like painting any more, I'll probably go and check out one or the other machine I'm designing... Come on! Out with you! »</p><p>He had ended in a cry too close to exasperation to disregard the order.</p><p>Completely disoriented, the musician left the studio without another word.</p><p>Leo swept his entire table with a single angry gesture of both arms. Furious at himself, furious at Giròlamo Riario.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Where friendship prevails...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zo gets much more from the Count than what he was asking for... Some feelings appear to be stronger still than pride.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sant'Onofrio, Calabria, 15th November 1481</p><p>It was a festive day and Filomena had made garlands to hang above the dining table. She had alternated dried lemons, still of a gorgeous bright yellow, with strips of vermilion-red cloth.<br/>The Count was perched on a stool to tie the end of the string to a hook in the masonry.<br/>The whole house smelled of soup, roasting chicken — in the stone oven repaired by Giròlamo as soon as they had arrived and, of course, the mythical panpepato.<br/>The table was adorned with a white embroidered tablecloth and decorated with dried fruit from the orchard and citrus fruit.<br/>The dog began to bark when he heard the door open. It was a little early for the arrival of the two guests, especially as it was a long way from Sant'Onofrio to Naples, where Giovanni and Lieutenant Doria were supposed to have stopped off... But, who knows, perhaps they had anticipated their departure?<br/>"Zo! I need all my attention now! Would you shut up for a minute? And by the way, be a little polite to the guests!<br/>- I don't remember any lack of politeness of my doing ! a grumpy voice protested.<br/>Giròlamo turned a little too sharply on his perch, lost his balance and almost fell.<br/>- Don't break your neck now, eh, Your Lordship! From what I can smell around here, It would be a pity. The visitor's face was closed, on the verge of anger...<br/>The Count was pale and motionless :<br/>- Zo! What happened? Is Leo all right? he asked, in a strangled voice.<br/>- No, Leo is NOT all right.<br/>Giròlamo let himself fall on the stool, his lungs caught in a noose. In an instant, a heavy sweat covered his forehead:<br/>- What... What the hell!, are you going to tell me?<br/>Filomena motioned for the visitor to sit down and served her master a glass of grappa:<br/>- Bottoms up, sir!<br/>Lucia woke up and began to jabber something. Zo then saw the cradle and the little hand waving, fist clenched, hammering the air to the rhythm of the mysterious message. With the same stern look he always had in the presence of Riario, his gaze went from Filomena to the Count:<br/>- Is the baby yours? he finally asked, staring at his host this time.<br/>- Tell me what happened to Leo! Is he ill? Is he injured? In prison?<br/>Zo decided to make him pay for all past insults and threats:<br/>- Which option would you prefer?<br/>Then Giròlamo got up, and the unthinkable happened: he knelt down and forgot everything he was, everything that this man sitting opposite him had once represented to him. He grabbed his hands:<br/>- I offer you the humiliation I'm feeling right now in exchange for a few words, Masini... Will that be enough for you? I beg you to put an end to my fears about our dear friend.<br/>The clouded eyes and trembling lips had an even greater effect than the manifestation of humility in itself :<br/>- Damn it! You're just as badly affected as he is, aren't you? For God's sake, get up, Count, I didn't ask for so much! Yes, Leo is sick, but not in the way you might think: he's just as fucking crazy as you are... in three words, he misses you. That's it!<br/>The Count stood up in rebellion, outraged:<br/>- What? I really don't see how my departure could weigh on him to such an extent... Once again, stop laughing at me, Masini!<br/>- If you just tell me briefly what you're doing in this hellhole, I'll tell you everything.<br/>- Mena, add a piece of cutlery, please... take a seat at the table, Masini, let me finish hanging the garland...<br/>- With those shaky hands of yours ? Good luck! the guest scoffed, pointing with his chin at the Count's obvious tremor. Leave it to me... Besides, the cradle is calling for a little attention, for all I know about it.<br/>- That's... That's my daughter, Lucia. Found, like me, also adopted.<br/>From the stool, Zo watched him leaning over the cradle:<br/>- Wow! It's just like I said: you're both as crazy as the other! Even though I must acknowledge that your adoption is much more generous than that of Leo.<br/>Girolamo raised his head sharply:<br/>- What's that? He adopted a child too?<br/>Zo burst out laughing:<br/>- You could put it like that... But the child is all grown up and looks just like you!<br/>Giròlamo blushed a little and masked a smile:<br/>- Oh! I see! The artist remains true to his reputation! <br/>Zo tied the garland in seconds and came down from the stool :<br/>- Say, you haven't made much progress on the practical side, have you? If a simple knot requires so much concentration from you...<br/>- I have built almost all the furniture you will find in this house! the Count objected… However, there’s still room for improvement, I am willing to concede.<br/>Zo stared at his host with less harshness, with a more attentive than contemptuous gaze:<br/>- You’ve changed.<br/>- You would never guess how much! Come on, why don't you sit down instead of just standing there, reveling in your dexterity: Lucia and I are celebrating our birthday. My cousin and my former lieutenant should be coming next, but I think they're not the kind of men you'd dislike... Giovanni is more... how shall I put it?<br/>- Less refined than you, Your Lordship, said Filomena, who had not ceased keeping a close eye on Zo's every single move. Nor was she inclined to let her guard down in presence of this stranger. If this was indeed the protective Zo the Count had told her about, she thought it prudent to closely watch the man, who had just sadistically played on her master's anxieties.<br/>She was listening, too, because this Leonardo, who was at the centre of their attention, suddenly took a different form in her eyes. If the proud Count della Rovere begged a rival in this way, it had to mean the artist had an importance quite other than what she had at first estimated.<br/>- Where is Leo? Giròlamo enquired, at the very moment.<br/>- In Firenze. He is not aware that I've been looking for you for three months, let alone that I'm here... You have to find an excuse to come, Riario! He needs, at the very least, to see you again. You've become a bloody obsession, now, as bad as that damned Book of Leaves in its time! He can no longer concentrate on his plans or paintings, and he is more often stuck at the Barking Dog than in the environment he truly deserves.<br/>Giròlamo lowered his head and sat down in front of him :<br/>- I... I had to get away from Rome and Florence. I spent a month at my cousin's house in Senigallia, I found Lucia, abandoned in a church, and then, the four of us came here... Filomena is my servant and her nurse... Her daughter, Carmina, is sleeping in the next room, she hates the smell of cooking.<br/>- Are you still in danger of being arrested?<br/>- Not since two weeks from now. My uncle Francesco assures me of impunity in exchange for some occasional advice... I had no other choice. I want my daughter to enjoy a stable and simple childhood, far from the nauseating customs of politics, but for that, I need this impunity. I want to be a father who is present and caring, to her.<br/>- Don't you know anything about her parents?<br/>- No... the note found in her basket only revealed the place and date of her birth, the 15th of November, like me. I had her christened, then legitimated under the name I had got back, Della Rovere.<br/>- It's going to feel very strange not being able to call you Riario anymore!<br/>- You could still resort to “Papal Viper“ or “ Hissing Bastard Prick“ ! he smiled.<br/>- Yeah! On occasion... Anyway, You could have at least written, eh!<br/>- Do you really think I considered myself to be important enough for Leo to want to hear from me?<br/>- Fuck, yes! Considering all the time and the energy he put into taking care of you and hiding you from those who wanted your skin, I'd say, damn, yes !<br/>- Ah! But here it is: precisely! Getting back in touch with Leonardo was a guarantee of harming him, don't you see? I was a wanted criminal, until only very recently... And then, he had had his share of misfortune, too... even more than his share. »<br/>Filomena took advantage of the silence between them to go and supervise the cooking of the meal. She didn't want to miss a single revelation. She came back with a jug of wine and some bread so as to wait for the soup.<br/>Zo came to sniff the hand of his namesake, slipping a fresh nose under his fingers, to invite him to caress it.<br/>"So, you thought of me all this time too, if I understand correctly.... All the same, to call your dog like me! he frowned, allegedly outraged.<br/>- Have I ever called you anything but "that dog Zo" or "that yappy little dog Zo?" conceded the Count.<br/>- Between the two of us, it was like love at first sight, only, in reverse... Perhaps a misunderstanding? I never believed you were the sincere one, in the friendship you had with Leo.<br/>- Oh, but I was, though! I have had an immense amount of admiration for his intelligence from the very beginning.<br/>- But Lucrezia's denunciation letter could have sent him to the stake!<br/>- The case was not supposed to even threaten to go that far. Had it not been for the Pazzi's relentlessness and Torquemada's intervention, Leo would have spent only a short time at the Bargello, just long enough for us to carry out the conspiracy, and then, with Rome having taken control of Florence, I could easily have had him released.<br/>- And what about Lucrezia?<br/>The Count's features hardened:<br/>- My cousin never weighed in the balance. I considered her stupid, for refusing to discern sincerity from treachery, I used her without the slightest hesitation.<br/>- The way you sound, you'd do it again! Zo wondered, outraged.<br/>- Under the same circumstances, yes, definitely!<br/>- Oh dear! You still have something of the cobra in you, after all!<br/>- I gnawed my claws so as not to hurt those I like to hug, but my canines are intact, Zo. Tomorrow I could bring what I am back to the surface... But this time, only of my own free will, never again on command.<br/>- Isn't that good news for you!<br/>- I think it is... Say, does Leo still own his childhood home in Vinci?<br/>- Yes, he does.<br/>- Then I suggest you try to take him there in, say, a fortnight. I'll be waiting for you there... If only I could have imagined that he had the slightest desire to see me again, after all he's seen of the man I am, I would have arranged to pay him a visit, incognito, a long time ago... But, in the meantime, spend as much time as you want here, with us. You'll see with your own eyes that this hellhole conceals unexpected charms! »</p><p>***</p><p>Firenze, December 2, 1481</p><p>Leonardo shuddered when he heard the crash behind him, he pulled the reins with all his strength, stopping the horses.<br/>It was a disaster! He didn't even dare to turn around to look at the carnage behind his cart.<br/>How could the wing have crashed? He had calculated everything: the direction of the wind, its speed, the weight of the materials...<br/>"Leo! Help!<br/>the weight of Atalante...<br/>- Just a minute! I'm thinking here!<br/>The length of the rope was good, he had calculated it more than ten times. Damn it! This failure was not logical... in the new world, they had successfully used fall decelerators that had...<br/>- Leo, please!<br/>...not even been tested beforehand, and here...<br/>- What, Atalanta? For heaven's sake...<br/>Finally he turned around and saw an arm and a foot protruding from the pile of wood and canvas...<br/>Distressing!<br/>He made an effort on himself, insulting fate between his teeth, to get off the cart and go and see the sad state of his invention - incidentally also that of its navigator, who was whimpering like a toddler:<br/>- Love, I've broken my leg! the musician grimaced, his breath altered by fright and pain.<br/>- Are you sure? It's probably just a contusion, you know.<br/>He set about clearing away the sections of canvas and the tangle of crossbeams, battens and rope... The central spine of the sail didn't seem to have suffered, at least, that was something!<br/>- There will be a way to recover some pieces, he diagnosed.<br/>- Wait, what? This is not the time to try to make me laugh, Leo, I'm suffering hell here... I need to get out of here.<br/>- What ? What ?  Oh! Yeah... I can't do it alone... I'll get Zo... Are you sure you didn't make a false move, huh? A wrong body tilt, and the machine gets out of balance, and...<br/>- Shut up! For God's sake, can you think about anything else but your damn machine?<br/>- Ah! Yes.... Go get Zo... I'm going. Don't move, eh! »<br/>Atalante groaned with rage. Move? No, but seriously ! This man was really as crazy as everybody said he was. How could he move even one foot in this infernal mikado game ?</p><p> </p><p>"One of these days you're going to kill someone, Leo! Zo grumbled on their way to the field where the device had crashed. <br/>- Sooo, tell me, how do you expect me to invent something without running any risks? We're not at some needlework here, we're making machines! You're in a good position to know that. Nevertheless, I don't see what could have happened at all. It makes me so furious!<br/>- You should take a break. You're overworked. I suggest that you come with me to Vinci: I have bumped into a childhood friend who lives there now, and he invites us to spend a few days with him... To tell the truth, he would like to meet you. He's a creative person, in his own way, he has written something he would like you to read...<br/>- Something in what area?<br/>- Oh! Hey! You think I asked?<br/>Zo made himself look a little disinterested, so as not to betray his desire to convince him.<br/>Leo pondered, with his eyes in the haze:<br/>- I could use the opportunity to get some beams from the house...<br/>- Are you going to tear down your childhood home in favour of your screwed-up inventions?<br/>- My inventions aren't fucked up... it's rather the mind that conceives them, that's been screwing up lately, Leo admitted, with a sulky face.<br/>- This ! It's like I said: you need a break! »<br/>Zo couldn't believe how easily he had won his friend over to his plan.<br/>It was the second of December, the Count must already have been waiting for them in Vinci. Only one thing bothered him...<br/>In the end, Atalante had not broken anything, he only had a bruise on his knee, which, of course, spread a wave of pain to his whole leg, but which in no way justified the squeals he uttered as he was delicately removed from the diabolical carcass.<br/>"I saw some wicked open fractures that made less noise!" the fortune teller commented, with a thought for their expedition to the new world.<br/>That's how, to demonstrate his endurance and bravery, Atalante decided that he would accompany them to Vinci the following day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Challenges.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The reunion in Vinci brings along some surprising moments.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December 3, 1481</p><p>Giròlamo was pacing around in the main room of the house of Vinci, unable to rest his eyes on anything. For two days, he had been engaged in a battle lost in advance, one of those that put his tenacious desire for perfection to the test. Even today, he still hated to lose, both in games and in fights. Twenty-five years of searching for legitimacy did not vanish, just like that, by sheer force of will.<br/>
He wanted this room to be welcoming, worthy of the reunion. So he had done everything possible to make it so. He had repaired, dusted, cleaned and even decorated.<br/>
Filomena had joked when she saw him loading his horse with two large bags of various utensils: "Milord, don't tell me that you are considering becoming a chimney sweep? »<br/>
Where was his former authority gone? This woman really took some liberties with propriety, but that's how he preferred her, because such was her nature: devoted to excess, but with a somewhat audacious edge. He was fed up with people who denied their own identity in order to please their superiors, he was thirsty for an authenticity which the Captain General of the Holy Roman Church would no doubt have condemned, and certainly punished.<br/>
So he had not given up in the face of decay and dirt, and today, the candles, the dish of fruit on the table, the four chairs - repaired - neatly arranged against the table, the crackling fire... all this made one want to linger awhile.<br/>
Leo had grown up here, he used to play, laugh, cry, work and probably to dream and talk very, very much in this house. Would he one day have the opportunity to learn more about that Leonardo?<br/>
When he heard the horses' hooves, his heartbeat went out of step, his breath stopped.He felt as if he was approaching his first fights, just like many years ago.<br/>
In his confusion, he didn't know whether to sit down or stay there with his hands behind his back, as if standing at attention.<br/>
The discomfort disappeared, however, as soon as the door opened on his former enemy, who was finishing a sentence, turned towards Zo: " ... not very long, Zo! »<br/>
As for Leo, when he saw him, he was overwhelmed by contradictory feelings of such violence, that he remained for a moment with his mouth wide open, blinking repeatedly, his hand still on the door...<br/>
"Count !<br/>
- Artista! "Giròlamo breathed, as a melody emerging from the land of 'Always'.<br/>
However, the artist suddenly drew his sword, the beautiful blade of the Medici, and rushed straight at him, his arm outstretched. 
The point of the sword pierced the soft skin on the Count's windpipe. A drop of blood was shed. Tears too, timidly, in the green and brown of the eyes: 
"Then you are hating me again...<br/>
- No, not again. I hate you as never before! the artist rasped, his voice out of tune.<br/>
- Put the fucking sword down, Leo, Zo tried, it's my fault: the surprise wasn't a good idea, you weren't in the right frame of mind to handle it!<br/>
But Leo, trembling hand, kept the tip of his blade on the Count's throat:<br/>
- You've let me imagine the worst for a whole year, do you realise that?<br/>
- I was on the run Artista...<br/>
- You have disdained what had grown between us!<br/>
Giròlamo took a gulp of air and whispered, sustaining his gaze :<br/>
- Never! Never ! How could I?  You supported me against everything that told you to destroy me.<br/>
Leo fluttered his eyelids, lowered his outstretched arm and watched in fascination as a trickle of blood rolled down the trachea and nested itself in the jugular notch:<br/>
- I... I hurt you!<br/>
The Count shrugged his shoulders and made an ironic mimic of resignation:<br/>
- That's what we do to each other all the time, isn't it?<br/>
Then, for no other reason than that gesture, Leo suddenly remembered the "That's what serpents do, isn't it?" from their very first encounter.  He threw away his sword and rushed to hold him:<br/>
- Fuck, did I miss you !<br/>
The Count squeezed him tighter:<br/>
- You too, Leo. Immensely! »<br/>
Zo finally exhaled the breath he had been holding back.<br/>
"Who is this man? Atalante asked, legitimately suspicious: the "Artista" had bristled up his jealousy, the fact that Leo tolerated it from this stranger even more so!<br/>
- You'll find out soon enough... Just one piece of advice: don't make him angry; with a blade in his hand, he's as sharp as a kingfisher, he'd slit your throat before you had time to flutter your eyelashes! »</p><p>***</p><p>"I bet you can' t do it, Artista! said Giròlamo, with a little cornered smile on his lips.<br/>
- Nonsense! Come on, it's easy! You just have to measure the impulse given with your wrist. It's all about sensitivity of touch and rhythm! Leo laughed, sure of himself.<br/>
- Go ahead, then! We'll all look at you and learn.<br/>
- Are you challenging me?<br/>
- It would appear so! <br/>
Leo put his glass on the table, stood up and approached the hearth where Giròlamo handed him the handle of the frying pan, amused.<br/>
- You've got me making everything... pancakes, now! He turned to Zo and Atalante: you two, not a word about this in Florence. I value my reputation, everyone must continue to believe that I have no gift whatsoever for the small tasks of everyday life.<br/>
He weighed the pan, swung it around a little to check that the pancake no longer stuck on its entire surface ...<br/>
- A good point for you, Da Vinci! commented the Count.<br/>
Leo gave him a laughing sideways glance:<br/>
- And now... he took a step back and counted, all the while tossing the frying pan back and forth: one, two and... three!<br/>
The pancake flew high, almost touching the structural beam in the ceiling and landed on one of the table's candlesticks.<br/>
- Nice try, Leo, the Count commented, but need I remind you that the aim is not to make it stick to the ceiling?<br/>
Leo hadn't looked more discomfited the day before, when he had noticed the damage to his flying machine :<br/>
- But... But... I don't understand! It doesn't make sense, I mean! Come on, Riario, prepare another one for me to try again.<br/>
- Are you sure? asked Zo, his mouth full of chunks from the aborted pancake. It would be a shame to spoil the Count's preparation... They are delicious, your pancakes, Your Highness, it seems you've been baking them all your life!<br/>
- Don't start at it again, eh, Masini! Giròlamo threatened good-humouredly, while pouring some batter into the pan.<br/>
- What? But I'm being serious, here! I never joke about food, everyone will tell you that.<br/>
- That's true, Leo confirmed... Where does this sudden taste for cooking come from, anyway?<br/>
- From the simple life in Sant'Onofrio, I suppose. When you live away from the world, you learn to feed yourself, or else you wait for death on an empty stomach.<br/>
- What an idea to have taken refuge so far away! Leo grumbled.<br/>
- You have to admit, though, it's a beautiful place, said Zo. Of course, it's not very lively, we're far from Florence, but the landscapes are really impressive!<br/>
Leo frowned, his eyes fixed on the dough, which was forming its little bubbles... another phenomenon that needed clearing up...<br/>
- You could have told me that that's where you were going, instead of inventing some tale to sleep standing up!<br/>
- My grandmother dying. If you paid attention once in a while you would have known that my grandparents died centuries ago!<br/>
- Why don't I ever remember those things?<br/>
- As Zo says: because you don't care about other people's lives! launched Atalante, darting the two blue rays of his remarkable gaze at him.<br/>
Giròlamo discreetly observed Leo's reaction to this reproach. 
He clenched his jaws and put his fists on his hips:<br/>
- How can you say that? I'm interested in every piece you compose and I read all your texts!<br/>
- But this is not my life! It's what I do, not what I am!<br/>
- It's the same thing, for goodness sake!<br/>
- No, it's not!<br/>
- Another try, Da Vinci? suggested the Count by holding out the handle of the frying pan to him.<br/>
Leo immediately forgot about the other challenge his lover had just thrown at him and exclaimed enthusiastically:<br/>
- Yes! Yes! This time I'll show you..."<br/>
Alas, the pancake took an even more extravagant route. Zo caught it in mid-air.<br/>
Leo was devastated, red with shame, so involved in the experiment, as always, that his face showed the deepest disappointment.<br/>
That's when Giròlamo felt how crazy he was about Leo, about this bold, determined, whimsical man... He took the frying pan from his hands, dropped it on the edge of the hearth and rested his palms on the painter's cheeks:<br/>
"You are a miracle, Artista, a miracle expressly conceived for those who pay enough attention to see in the haze of banality! »<br/>
And without any other precondition, he bent forward to kiss him, first gently, then eagerly.<br/>
Realizing at last that he wasn't dreaming, Leo clung to him as to survival, until he was out of breath.<br/>
" Well, I think I've eaten enough, Zo said loud and clear. I'm going to find a place to sleep ... Thanks for everything, Count, it was really worth it! If only someone had told me one day that I would see the glacier melt!<br/>
Giròlamo addressed him with the brightest of smiles:<br/>
- Thank you, for looking for me! <br/>
Atalante stood up slowly, without saying anything, his head hanging low, and he followed Zo to the next room.<br/>
- Is he going to be all right? asked the Count.<br/>
- I think the first few hours here have already begun to open his eyes... I've always forbidden him to call me Artista, that name belongs exclusively to you... But rather, explain to me once again how much you love the miracle that I am, will you?<br/>
- I will need much more than that, Artista!<br/>
- Then take it... Then I'll take you! »</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Farewells.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The three days in Vinci passed at the speed of a branch carried by a torrent. On this last day, none of the four occupants of the house was happy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December 6, 1481</p><p>The three days in Vinci passed at the speed of a branch carried by a torrent. On this last day, none of the four occupants of the house was happy.<br/>
Zo was bored to death in such a depopulated place. He had tried to distract himself by reading tarot cards at the nearest inn, but the customers were either too stingy or in too much of a hurry for it to be profitable. In addition, many were wary of this exuberant stranger with a physique too typical to be truly Italian. Mistrust of foreigners had increased considerably since the Turkish invasions. He desperately tried to strike up conversations, even offering these strangers a drink in the hope of keeping them here, but all too often, the dialogue wore off as the mug emptied and he stood there alone, observing the travellers and the drunkards from the neighborhood.<br/>
At home, Atalante was no help to him: the young musician dragged his melancholy and rage like a shroud and responded only in monosyllables to Zo's attempts. Anyway, their sole common point of interest was Leo, a subject to be avoided at all costs these last few days.<br/>
The artist and the Count had invested themselves entirely in their more intimate discovery of each other and, to the misfortune of their companions, it appeared that their compatibility in bed was equalled only by the inexplicable attraction that had brought them together for years, even when they were still adversaries.<br/>
In three days, they had barely deigned to leave their room to eat.<br/>
In those rare and fleeting moments, Zo noticed that his lifelong friend was reconnecting.  All feverishness had disappeared and he was again able to listen and, above all, to hear what he was told. One was no longer faced with a frozen face and an empty gaze, he had finally regained contact with the world. Sophia would be happy to be reunited with this brother, who had been lost for many months.<br/>
For Giròlamo and Leo, the time had come for assessments and plans. How to combine this wonderful revelation of shared love with the demands of their lives.<br/>
The Count could no longer visit Florence, where the unstable situation - partly of his own making - gave no guarantee of his safety.<br/>
Leo could soon travel to Calabria, but staying there was out of the question: his activities as an artist and engineer required him to stay close to a court, under the patronage of a powerful family.<br/>
« Now that I've regained my legitimacy, I might consider returning to Forli, Giròlamo said, knitting Leo's long hair with his beautiful fingers, but I have to admit that it pains me a little to give up my little Calabrese place.<br/>
I fell in love with nature, vineyards and olive trees.<br/>
- Nothing obliges you to do it definitively or even hastily! Stay there and I'll manage to come there often.<br/>
- Do you know that it involves ten days of travel?<br/>
- As far as the creative side of my activities is concerned, I can manage just as well at your place... You have a little shelter, a shed or something like that, where I could put my equipment, don't you?<br/>
Giròlamo burst out laughing: he was remembering  Leo's extravagant installation, the big table in his studio, covered with flasks, alembics, cups and saucers :<br/>
- I might as well consider leaving the house to you and moving my little family into the annex!<br/>
- But... I AM of your little family now, Moonlight! Leo protested, drawing the Count's collarbone with his fingers. Then he bent down to trace with the tip of his tongue the course of the blood he had drawn three days before. Giròlamo shuddered and gasped when he reached the jugular notch. He grabbed Leo by the back of the neck to invite him to linger there.<br/>
- I thought the iliac spine was your most sensitive point, the artist smiled between two thorough, tantalizing licks.<br/>
- Hmmm! Both... and more, Artista. " the Count moaned.</p><p>***</p><p>Atalante chose one of the rare moments when the Count was alone, busy saddling his Friesian and attaching a light bag to the saddle. Everything else remained here in the house. Who knows, after all, maybe one day they would come back to make pancakes and give it back a bit of life?<br/>
« I hadn't imagined you to be like this, said the young musician, without further preamble.<br/>
- Oh, you didn't, did you? I didn't know you had tried to imagine me, Atalante, the Count said, his heart too heavy to laugh at this clumsy approach.<br/>
- It didn't take a genius to guess that Leo was drowning a heartbreak in all that alcohol, and I knew it wasn't Lucrezia Donati's death.<br/>
- He loved her, however, you know.<br/>
- She wasn't dangerous enough in his presence. You, you give off a menacing scent which must set him on fire ... for a while, he added, poisonous.<br/>
- Ah! Here we are! Clear your burden as long as you still can, my boy, in a few minutes I won't be here and the emptiness won't hear you.<br/>
Atalante scowled: "My boy" had displeased him to the utmost:<br/>
- No, you won't be there. I am the one who is going back to Florence with Leo, I am the one who will give him the love and pleasure he needs. I am real, you are just a fantasy.<br/>
The Count turned to him, affecting solicitude :<br/>
- Let me check something... You do realise you are a substitute, don't you?<br/>
- I am no one's substitute! I am me, I am my music, my verses, and my sincere affection for Leo! Atalante replied, rebellious<br/>
Giròlamo put a hand on his shoulder and bent down to say in his ear :<br/>
- I am his blood, as much as he is mine, you are a perfumed water which he covers himself with while he is waiting for me... The next time you come across a mirror, wave to the one you see in it... I promise to answer you in the same way. »<br/>
On this venomous outing, he winked at him and walked away, Dante on his heels.</p><p>***</p><p>They kissed and hugged one last time, in a stubborn silence. In some circumstances, only the eyes can speak well.<br/>
Soon they would meet again, to pass the new year together and Leo would meet Lucia, Filomena, Carmina and the country that was trying to steal his Count from him.<br/>
For the first time ever, Zo and Giròlamo hugged each other, and the latter reiterated his thanks for looking for him and finding him.<br/>
"My compliments to Zo! " Zo said.<br/>
He wouldn't have confessed it for anything in the world, but to him too, yes, farewells were a bit poignant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Things to be done.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Both Leonardo and Giròlamo are confronted to the tasks that await them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The crossing of the halls and corridors went in slow motion. Giròlamo's spirit, half captured by the past, half by the present, resembled a narrow path where the shadows of yesteryear and those of today clashed, each claiming the right of passage.</p><p>He had seen this furniture, these tapestries, these sumptuous frescoes and decorations thousands of times in twenty-three years at his father's service. Each object could have told of the dark hours of his life, they whispered in his ear stories of murder, torture, conspiracy and lies.<br/>In turn guilty and victim, how could his mind have escaped the fracture, the dislocation of itself?</p><p>On this table, he had seen the traces of Cardinal Rodrigo's blood; on this marble, Alessandro della Rovere's henchmen had broken his nose; a secretary still bore the mark of his sword, which had slashed the body of a boy, fleeing from the fervour of the false pope, who was vainly trying, with a heavy candlestick as a weapon, to defend himself against the fearsome Captain General...<br/>"Shame on you and your dog gullibility, always ready to obey and endure! »</p><p>At last, he crossed the great door at which, a year before, almost to the day, he had assured his incredulous father that he was not an apparition. The threat was barely concealed under these words, but, trusting in the blind obedience his son had always displayed, the prelate had not perceived it. Or he had heard it, but ignored the determination of his human weapon, ready to turn against him.</p><p>However, on this eighth December 1481, the shock was for him, Giròlamo.<br/>The last time he had seen his uncle, Francesco della Rovere, he was wearing a shabby habit, a long beard in which birds seemed to have nested and long messy hair... The man who greeted him, arms outstretched, however, was clean-shaven and looked like what he really was: Alessandro's identical twin.<br/>Giròlamo slowed down his pace, blinked his eyes several times and rubbed his hands forcefully to prevent them from shaking in front of what might just as well have been his father's ghost.</p><p>He noticed the empty table, as proof that he was dealing with his uncle, much more ascetic than Alessandro had been. The man nevertheless reminded him, that the Della Rovere twins had more in common than physical similarity: "Giròlamo!  How was your stay in Vinci?<br/>The Count felt the hairs standing up all over his body. He squeezed his lips briefly:<br/>- Necessary and pleasing at the same time, Holy Father.<br/>- Come on! No formalities between us, my nephew! I will not demand of you, like your father, to disregard our kinship: I will not disavow you as soon as I have given you back your name.<br/>Giròlamo bowed slightly, confirming that he understood this convention:<br/>- How can I be of service to you, Uncle?<br/>The Pope sneered:<br/>- No detours, no casual conversation beforehand? I'm only half surprised: with me you often chose the frontal attack of the subject.<br/>- As you know, I run a modest farm in Sant'Onofrio, where I have tasks to perform.<br/>- I need you in Forli, Count.  Relations between Venice and Ferrara are deteriorating due to the exploitation of the salt marshes and about the trade in salt... I want you to reaffirm your authority in the region.<br/>- In short, you want me to attack Ferrara.<br/>- Yes, and beforehand, you should get in touch with Roberto Sanseverino, who commands the Venetian army... So?<br/>- If you can guarantee the journey and the safety of my servant and her daughters during the travel to Forli, I can take to the road as soon as today.<br/>- It goes without saying: your servant, her daughter and yours will be able to rely on a carriage and an escort worthy of your rank... Yes, of course you already assumed that I knew about it: you and I have played enough games of go... you know that the preparation of my strategy has always been of the utmost importance to me. One Lucia della Rovere baptized in the duchy of your cousin Giovanni could not escape me.<br/>- I remember indeed the care you took with the details ...<br/>- Details are precious, Giròlamo: a simple piece preserved or put aside can change a tactic... Ah! Giovanni! We were talking about you, he exclaimed at the entrance of his military leader.<br/>Even if Giròlamo still retained his title of Captain General of the Roman Church, it was, in fact, Giovanni who was in charge of it today, an agreement which only the perfect understanding between the two cousins had made possible.<br/>Giovanni bowed respectfully to his uncle and then came to embrace Girolamo:<br/>- Do you know that Lieutenant Doria is seriously thinking of spending his retirement in Calabria, since we've been staying with you? he said, cheerfully.<br/>- I'm delighted! Filomena is a gem, I can't thank you enough for parting with her in my favour!<br/>Sixtus - of course, he had taken back the name that had been usurped for so long - suggested:<br/>- Spend the night here, Giròlamo: tomorrow will be early enough to take the road to Forli and I will give the necessary orders to get your little family safely there.<br/>He was thus giving leave to the Count.<br/>- Wait for me, will you? Giovanni added. I'll bring you up to date with some information about the Ferrara problem...".<br/>Giròlamo nodded his head and, despite everything, went on to kiss the papal ring, which had always been more attached to faith in his eyes than to its representatives. In his mind, there was now no doubt about it.<br/>As soon as he left the throne room, he had someone bring him everything he needed to write two messages: one for Sant'Onofrio, the other for Florence.<br/>The seal of the Count was back in use for the first time in a long time.</p><p>***</p><p>"I thought you wanted to stay out of politics! Giovanni said in amazement, an hour later, while they were both sitting at a table in a tavern near the Arsenale in the port of Ripa.<br/>- Tell me, what else could I do? Right away, he let me know that he knew everything about my stay in Vinci... it was as if he also knew that we didn't content ourselves with baking pancakes !<br/>Giovanni burst out laughing : <br/>- Girò: everyone knows that being close to Da Vinci doesn't exactly encourages anybody to think of making pancakes ! ... believe me, Sixtus knows it even better than anyone else !<br/>- Who's telling him?<br/>- I suspect a certain Quoi Shan, whom used to be seen a lot in Lucrezia's company... He would have disappeared the day your father received Bajazet and gave him a monumental humiliation. It is said that during Franceso's imprisonment at the Sant'Angello he sent him coded messages, thanks to the reverberation of the sun and moon light. Nobody seems to have ever seen him up close, except Lupo Mercuri... I got the information from one of his relatives.<br/>- So... A clever man... silent and almost invisible. In any case, our uncle has too much blackmail leverage against me for me to refuse some kind of collaboration. Do you know this Roberto Sanseverino?<br/>- Not very well. In fact, I have met Roberto Malatesta more often... you should try to approach him, he also seems more devoted to Rome to me... So? Da Vinci? Are you going to tell me a little bit or are you going to, as in the past, reinvest your walls of silence?<br/>He ordered some more wine and the Count smiled at him:<br/>- No longer with you, cousin, you know that! »</p><p>***</p><p>"Are you finally going to bring yourself to talk to Atalante? said Sophia, as the three of them were sharing an evening meal four days after the three men's return.<br/>Zo looked up from his plate to check Leo's reaction. He too had been wondering, but would not have dared to broach the subject. Leo didn't tolerate any admonishment, from anyone. A life would have had to be in danger for Zo to bring up the issue.<br/>- About what? Leonardo asked, frowning. He sprinkled a gulp of wine on his mouthful of bread.<br/>- About your relationship, of course! He's been wandering around you like a ghost for two days, hoping you'll tell him something.<br/>- What could I possibly tell him? I guess he's already reckoned where we are, he's not stupid!<br/>- He's not stupid, but he's still hoping that he doesn't belong to the past... Are you going to throw him away like an old piece of used paper, without giving him a word?<br/>- Of course not, come on!  We're still friends!<br/>- You, you can see yourselves as friends, not him, for God's sake!<br/>- Are you trying to lecture me, sister?<br/>- No, I'm trying to remind you that there are people around you.<br/>- Thank you, I had noticed... there are sometimes even a few too many!<br/>Ouch! It was getting worse, that's what Zoroaster had feared. Before the glare and the outrageous things that were sometimes said at such moments, he intervened:<br/>- Sophia, it would be better if we didn't get involved in this.<br/>- So, you don't mind seeing Atalante unhappy, in uncertainty, when it would only take a few words to clarify things?<br/>- I do care, but I don't have the right to interfere.<br/>- But you had the right to look for Giròlamo Riario and arrange the reunion!<br/>- It's not the same thing.<br/>- Isn't it? Let me sum up: if Leo is unhappy, we have to find a cure, but if it's Atalante, then let it piss, good people, it's only Atalante? Is that it?<br/>- In a way, yes. Leo is my friend. That's the difference!<br/>She turned to her brother again to see his reaction. He was smiling, triumphant.<br/>- You're just a spoiled, spoiled child, Leonardo da Vinci. I hope your Count will teach you in his own way the proper consideration for the people who love you.<br/>- Don't bring him into this! Leo warned.<br/>- Oh, but he did meddle in it himself! Do you know what he told Atalante?He told him that he was only a pale reflection of himself, a replacement! Sophia squeaked as she rose from the table. He told him that he was only a pale reflection of himself, a replacement! squeaked Sophia as she rose from the table. She couldn't just sit there, the revolt was sowing pins in her veins.<br/>- But... it's the truth! said Leo, surprised that it wasn't obvious to her. Then he remembered that she hadn't yet met Giròlamo, that she had never yet seen them in each other's presence... Besides, you'll see him tomorrow, he's making a stop here before going to Forli. I received a message this afternoon.<br/>She put her hands on her hips:<br/>- So THAT's what made you so smiling! It seemed as if you had met the Blessed Virgin in person... I pity you, my poor Leo.<br/>- And, please, what have I got to be pitied about, Miss Wisdom?<br/>- Well, if love makes you blind and stupid, there's nothing left to do but pity you!<br/>Zo got angry:<br/>- You cannot deny your brother the right to be a bit happy, can you?<br/>- I can and I must reproach him for denying this same right to a boy who is in love with him! Atalante deserves the truth, not indifference or uncertainty. It is cowardly to run away from an explanation like that.<br/>- And it would be more magnanimous to tell him: "Listen, Atalante, nothing you can try will thrill me as much as a single word from the Count"? Because that's what it's all about, you know ! Comparing what they mean to me would be like comparing a light breeze to a storm, if you see what I mean. I can't tell Atalanta the truth, it's too... brutal !<br/>- And it's from this kind of love that you expect happiness? I can't believe it! You are even more unrealistic than I thought!<br/>Leo looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time and said, surprised again:<br/>- I'm not expecting anything, damn it! Love is what it is, I can't change its nature to please you any more than I can change the course of the sun: it's not meant to serve me, any more than Rio, it's an entity in itself, that's how it is!<br/>- I don't get it!<br/>- I do, Zo said: I saw the Count's panic when I let him believe that your brother was in danger and I saw Leo's reaction when they met again in Vinci.<br/>- So they are not masters, but subjects. It's revolting, isn't it?<br/>- That's life: there are things you can't do anything about. Atalante can't help loving Leo despite what he saw in Vinci... He can't help it either. »</p><p>This little quarrel only increased Leonardo's impatience.<br/>Yes, he admitted it - what else could he have done? -, in the presence of Giròlamo, he no longer controlled anything, he was only a part of a whole, which was 'them' and which dominated them both.</p><p>He was all flesh and feelings, in no way a decision-maker, delightfully submissive and thankfully offered to a force that filled him with pleasure and emotional fulfilment. Everything he knew about the world was summed up in the sensations of Giròlamo's hands on him, his eyes in his own, his mouth on his skin and the electrifying caress of his hair on the hypersensitive skin of his belly.  His voice was enough to subdue him completely, to strike his loins with a wave of merciless desire. This voice took him completely before he was even touched. As for Giròlamo's gaze, it was night and the infinite ocean of the galaxy, everything led him to lose himself in it and find himself there at the same time.</p><p>Tomorrow he would be there. <br/>Tomorrow Leo would feel complete again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Cruel wait.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leo is having a bad time, waiting for his beloved under the fire of Atalante's taunts would otherwise fire his irritability... but for some mitigating circumstances.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December 11, 1481, Florence.</p><p>Leo had dropped into one of the old armchairs which Zo, Sophia and Atalante had stolen from God knows where, in some bourgeois house left unguarded. Some were left open to the many thieves produced by the harshness of the moment. Everyone in Florence had gone down a notch on the social ladder: the nobles had lost property and money, the middle classes were seeing their factories and other businesses decline and the poor were finding it harder and harder to feed themselves.<br/>So, garments and jewelry were becoming less sumptuous, furniture was allowed to wear out in houses where, in the past, nothing but new was tolerated, and some of the most virtuous people would sneak in here and there in search of food or goods for resale.</p><p>To Zo, pilfering and scams of all kinds had always counted among the great pleasures of life. He had been seen selling a thirty centimeter long toe bone of Saint Jerome to naive people, having his most sinister tarot cards foretell enthralling happiness and stealing from traders a little better off than others, everything that could be carried under his beautiful colourful jacket.<br/>As to Sophia, she had found in night-time looting the opportunity to feel those little adrenaline rushes that she had been missing ever since their adventures in Otranto. Atalante was discovering a thrill of transgression that had not been allowed to him as a child. He had grown up in a family where severity was the law, where any fantasy or deviation from the commandments was seriously punished.</p><p>Today, therefore, Leo's studio had been enriched with three grated but still comfortable armchairs, and it was in one of them that he was enduring the cross attack of his anxiety and Atalante's hints.</p><p>At first the artist had tried to wear out his nerves in action and in the pacing around the large table, but, exhausted, had ended up stranded in the chair like a barge battered by some merciless winds.<br/>Atalante continued, howevere, overexcited, caught by the unhealthy fever of the game: <br/>« What’s the use of making great theatrical statements if one is not even capable of keeping one's promises! He was due to arrive in the course of the afternoon, wasn't he? Do you think he got locked up at the Sant'Angelo? Or maybe the Pope took more radical revenge for the death of his daughters and his brother? By now, your handsome Captain may be undergoing the whip... or the branding iron? I'd rather have iron... Or else... "</p><p>This had been going on for more than two hours.</p><p>Zo and Sophia had tried to shut him up already, but nothing could put an end to his litany. The poor boy was losing his mind.<br/>Under other circumstances, Leo would have thrown that nasty wasp out of the house long ago, but he knew that the young musician was entitled to some mitigating circumstances, he knew that he deserved his anger and he wasn't surprised by this cruelty. Atalante was in pain. Had he been in his place, he too would probably have wanted to make him pay dearly for his abandonment.<br/>So he kept enduring it all.</p><p>He was suffering the lecture and the hours that had become darker, the relative silence of the night, creeping through the alleys, the calls of the watchmen and the hollering of the few drunks who dared to brave the curfew…  </p><p>« Perhaps he simply changed his mind, after all, Atalante went on, perhaps he reconsidered what he was doing, and the drawbacks of having an affair with a notorious sodomite ?  Perhaps he realized that his new life demands a certain form of wisdom that does not tolerate this kind of behaviour? Have you even thought about his daughter, Nardo? He is a father now, he has to conform to a certain model. Or else... or else... It is customary to seal alliances with other great families: didn't you tell me he was promised to Caterina Sforza? Yes! Yes! That must be it of course!  Sixtus certainly reminded him of his duties...<br/>- Atalante, for pity's sake, shut up! pleaded Leo, weakly.<br/>- Ah! I must be a bit too close to the truth, eh? Maybe the great Giròlamo Riario won't be bothered by a scandalous lover, when a political career is opening up to him? How does it feel, Artista, to be thrown away like an old rag? ... <br/>Then the door opened and an officer of the night appeared before them:<br/>— Has Florence forgotten that it used to cut off the tongue of less talkative bores? he asked.<br/>Zo breathed a sigh of relief and Leonardo leapt to his feet and rushed towards him:<br/>- Rio! Shit, I thought my nerves were going to break one by one!<br/>- I'm sincerely sorry, Artista, said Giròlamo, stroking his cheek, I had no choice but to wait until nightfall to steal that uniform and walk the streets incognito… <br/>They kissed, passionately.<br/>- It's very reckless of you, Count, to come here, Atalante remarked between his teeth, there’s always a price on your head!<br/>- Would you enjoy cut off my head, Atalante?  the Count mocked. Alas, the guard from whom I borrowed this uniform will no longer be able to warn you of this, but I defend myself rather well when I am attacked.<br/>- You killed the guard ? Zo wondered.<br/>- As I've just said, he won't talk anymore.<br/>- Still not a fan of half measures, eh?<br/>- Still not, no... He took off his cape and the ridiculous headgear and rubbed his hands: I'm dying of thirst! Are you going to leave me standing there or are you going to offer me a drink, you rascals! » </p><p>Sophia was not recovering from this apparition and especially from the voice of this stranger. It made shivers run down her back, the kind of shivers she had never experienced before. Her hands were sweaty, her throat dry, and she couldn't take her eyes off the visitor. Zo saw this and it was he who, with a gesture, invited the Count to sit at the table. He placed a mug in front of him and filled it with wine:<br/>« Cheese and fruit on the menu... No meat, as you well know, he said.<br/>- Nothing that once had eyes, I remember! <br/>He took Leo by the shoulders and whispered something in his ear as he led him to the table. Leo smiled sideways and moistened his lower lip. At last he became conscious of the others:<br/>- You haven't yet met my sister, Sophia, he said, pointing to her. Sophia, this is Count Giròlamo della Rovere...<br/>She made a small curtsy and grinned:<br/>- I know your face... it's all over Leo's notebooks. Welcome, Milord !<br/>- How do you do... may I call you Sophia?<br/>- Of course! she said, blushing. The more he spoke, the better she understood her brother's fascination.<br/>- So, please drop the milords and the your highnesses... only Zo still uses them from time to time to tease me.<br/>The latter, consistently mischievous, snapped his fingers in front of Sophia's eyes:<br/>- And it is forbidden to look at him so covetously with your brother around... I am for peace in families.<br/>She blushed even more and giggled:<br/>- Sorry, yes... Besides, it's quite impolite! »</p><p>During the quick frugal meal, she was content to listen and observe the looks and gestures between Leo and the guest.  She imagined other touches, hidden under the table, she wasn't that innocent, but she detected in those that were unconcealed a burning desire and, above all, a lot of tenderness. This is what won her over to the Count.</p><p>"I couldn't miss such an opportunity to see you again, Giròlamo said. I'm on my way to Forli, on my uncle's orders... Filomena and the girls will join me there soon. Will you come?<br/>- I'm thinking of leaving Florence in the coming year myself. The Duke of Milan may well be my next employer. <br/>- You'll hate leaving this city, won't you?<br/>- Oh, it's far from being the happy place of yesteryear and Lorenzo's governance has ceased to please me for some time now... It's like Laura Cereta said, he' s more and more tyrannical, the further away from him I get, the better I breathe. In any case, I'm no longer welcome, he supports my application for the job of engineer with the Sforzas...<br/>- Ha! Ha! Atalante laughed, finally you might get to be invited to Caterina's wedding, after all!<br/>- Caterina Sforza won't get married, Giròlamo said, bad luck, Atalante... We write to each other regularly and I can tell you that she has no more propensity for marriage than I do.<br/>Leo stood up and held out his hand:<br/>- Come on... If you're finished, let's make the most of these few hours, which will seem far too short! <br/>Giròlamo got up willingly to follow him upstairs and said, as soon as they were out of reach of the others :<br/>- Do Zo and Atalante live with you too?<br/>- No, Leo laughed, between two kisses, Zo came to spend the night to welcome you and a little, I think, to keep an eye on Atalante...  the latter came to spur me on... He's been telling me for hours about the reasons that could prevent you from coming. I wish you could have heard that: the parakeets in the Medici palace don't make more noise... I don't know how to deal with him anymore.<br/>- I suppose he'll find a way to deal with it... You still haven't answered my invitation, Artista: will you come to Forli?<br/>- Of course I will! Even, as soon as possible...<br/>As he spoke, Giròlamo had pushed Leo back to the edge of his bed, dropped him there and announced :<br/>- And now, let's get down to business, Da Vinci... I'm going to tie you to your bed and tell you things you wouldn't dare to repeat. I am going to devour you bit by bit, very slowly, until you beg me to stop.<br/>Just at the thought of this, Leo's cheeks were colouring, his breath was shorter:<br/>- I dare you! "he said, in a breath.</p><p>***</p><p>If Sophia had meant to draw what she heard, coming from upstairs, while sitting at the table with Zo and Atalante, she would have depicted a soft meadow of high grass, warmed by the sun - the bewitching purr of the Count's voice. In the background, a mountain range, with its peaks and slopes - the exclamations of her brother, the sharpness of surprises, the panting, moaning and sighing of pleasure or frustration...<br/>In her daydream, she went to lie down in the both smooth and rough grass, and the green carpet thickened, caressing her arms and legs and wrapping her up. She closed her eyes, entirely taken by the lascivious and modulated lullaby, deaf to the buzzing of her two companions.<br/>She could fly on the wave of this voice. Nothing around her was material anymore.<br/>Zo had to snap his fingers again to pull her out of her waking fantasy:<br/>"I heard that the Prince of Darkness is a magician, Sophia, but do come down from your cloud, he's taken, remember?<br/>- It's that voice... she said, half-conscious.<br/>- Yeah! That too is part of the magic formula. But be careful anyway, eh, he's a killer! »<br/>Disgusted, Atalante got up with a loud bang and, braving the curfew, left without a word.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. On the run.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Florentine guards invaded Leo's studio at dawn, Giròlamo and Leo escaped...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>" Where's Dante? Leo asked.</p>
<p>They had been running for ten minutes through the most discreet streets of Florence, taking shortcuts, sometimes through private courtyards and even houses. The Florentines weren't the shy type of folks, the intrusion of a runaway in the early morning didn't make them scream. At most, they would utter a simple astonished "but...! ".Moreover, this intruder would leave at once, proof enough that there was nothing to worry about.</p>
<p>— At a blacksmith's, just outside the town... Giròlamo replied. He's too remarkable, I didn't want to come into town with him.</p>
<p>Leo almost stopped dead in his tracks. Too remarkable? Was the Count joking?</p>
<p>— You're joking, right? he asked, by the way.</p>
<p>— No...Giròlamo replied, knocking over a column of wicker baskets behind him to slow down their pursuers.</p>
<p>Leonardo exclaimed:</p>
<p>— Ah, here we are... We'll take another diversion to raise doubts.I know a way out of the city.We have to climb the wall there.</p>
<p>He pointed to a part of the ramparts.Giròlamo frowned and suddenly felt in his leg the bite of a bitter memory:</p>
<p>— Is this going to involve one of your damn crash veils?" he shouted.</p>
<p>Leo laughed:</p>
<p>— No... We'll have to jump, but the hill on the other side is high enough for us to land intact... you won't break anything this time. »</p>
<p>The two guards on duty on the rampart were not so lucky.</p>
<p>When they reached the blacksmith's workshop, the Count untied his horse and left a purse hanging on the rack as payment: </p>
<p>" There will be two of us for a while, Dante, said Giròlamo. You should remember Leo, eh? Yes, yes, it's the same one, the insolent guy who used to make me nervous... Come on, hop to it, Artista!</p>
<p>He held out his hand, Leo mounted in an elegant jump.</p>
<p>— Ready? Giròlamo smiled, turning slightly towards him.</p>
<p>— Whenever you want, both of you.</p>
<p>He tied his arms around the Count's waist.</p>
<p>— Off to Forli! We should find you a mount in two hours...</p>
<p>— Are you talking to me? "Leo asked, in all seriousness.</p>
<p>Giròlamo burst out laughing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Barely half an hour earlier, the guards of Florence had stormed Leonardo's studio, shouting that they knew the Count was there, that he had to show up to be brought before Lorenzo de'Medici.</p>
<p>Zo and Sophia had protested, had done everything to give the Count time to escape through the rooftops.</p>
<p>Now they were worried about whether the two fugitives had already got out of the city.</p>
<p>"Do you think they're going to Forli? Sophia asked, waking up the fire in the hearth.</p>
<p>— There's a fair chance. Over there, they'll be out of reach of Florence's revenge... And if you ask me, we'd better get out of here ourselves, as soon as possible. Right now, even!</p>
<p>He got up sharply and, before leaving, announced:</p>
<p>— I'm going to get what I need for the trip.Do the same, fill a bag. I'll be back very soon with the cart. »</p>
<p>"Books! Books, Leo's sketchbook, his charcoals... "</p>
<p>Sophia was walking around the studio in search for inspiration... She ran up the stairs, towards the chest where her brother used to throw his clothes: a shirt, trousers... Yes but... was it necessary? The two men would have reached Forli that very night... No, it would probably be better to pack something else than clothes. She ran downstairs. What could be missing at the Count's that Leo would need? Hell, yes! His pipe. He didn't use it much anymore, but if he needed to invent a new machine, he would need it, no doubt! ... And books... His anatomy charts? She dislodged a stone from the wall and pulled a lever that made a partition slide. Behind it, a cloud of dust, disturbed by the draught, and a lot of messy bookshelves, where Leo could find what he was looking for in the blink of an eye. She had often offered to tidy the place up, but her brother had shouted in panic, saying that if she stuck her nose in it, he wouldn't find anything afterwards.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?</p>
<p>Sophia was startled...</p>
<p>— It looks like somebody came to search the workshop, there are things lying around everywhere!</p>
<p>— Is that you?</p>
<p>— Yes, as you can see!</p>
<p>— No... was it you who turned in the Count?</p>
<p>— What? exclaimed Atalante. What are you talking about?</p>
<p>— I'm saying that guards arrived here at dawn to take Giròlamo Riario away and that it wouldn't surprise me if it was you who denounced him.</p>
<p>— Ah! They set him up, didn't they? Surely, you don't expect me to feel sorry for him?</p>
<p>— That's just as I suspected!Get out of here! Get out of here, right now!</p>
<p>— Wait a minute: first of all, if I'm not mistaken, you're not at home and secondly, I have nothing to do with this.</p>
<p>Sophia looked at him with her fists on her hips:</p>
<p>— Go away, I said!</p>
<p>— When Leo tells me himself!</p>
<p>— Leo is not here at the moment…</p>
<p>— Oh! I see... they're hiding and you're planning an escape, aren't you? In that case, I'm waiting for him to come out of his hole. I have the right to some explanations! he said, sitting at the table.</p>
<p>— Grrr! Do as you like, after all. But don't talk to me.</p>
<p>She resumed her hasty packing. She was closing her own bag when Zo pointed at the door:</p>
<p>— Ready, Princess? Then he saw the young musician: Ah, Atalante! Well done, boy: Fuck! Now Leo will hate you!</p>
<p>— I didn't denounce him, damn it! Atalante shouted, hitting the table with the flat of his hand.</p>
<p>— Yeah... well, good luck trying to make us believe it... Come on, let's go, Sophia!</p>
<p>— Where are you going?</p>
<p>— If someone asks you, you'll say you don't know, and you won't have lied! "said Sophia, furious.</p>
<p>With that, they went out and left Atalante alone.</p>
<p>He looked around him, shoulders slumped: empty, like this, the studio was gloomy and perhaps even hostile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Twilight had come. They had spoken little.It was as if the fog that they were going through had gradually crept into their heads, shrouding their thoughts. Leo's horse was showing signs of tiredness, he hadn't wanted to spend too much on an animal that would only serve him for one ride, which he would soon sell once they had reached their destination.</p>
<p>"We have to walk, he said, this old fellow won't take another step, even if God helped him!</p>
<p>— God, Artista? the Count sneered. I thought you didn't believe in him!</p>
<p>— No, but he might!" replied Leo with a sign from his chin towards the horse.</p>
<p>So they walked, through an unwelcoming wood.</p>
<p>The woods, everywhere, evoke menace. From childhood, we learn from the stories of the elders that witches reign there and that malevolent supernatural beings inhabit them. The belief disappears over the years, but the apprehension remains, like a thin scar on the knee, which we got from falling when we were kids... Maybe while picking mushrooms in the woods, in fact.</p>
<p>Giròlamo glanced at his lover.He was pinching his lower lip, frowning and nodding his head to the rhythm of his step.</p>
<p>"You think it was Atalante who let the cat out of the bag, don't you?</p>
<p>— If I had had to suspect anyone on this earth, it wouldn't have been him... But I think the wound runs deeper than I had imagined. Who knows what a wound to self-esteem can cause.</p>
<p>A crow croaked several times, mockingly. Leo shot it with a glance, as if the animal had put malice into it.</p>
<p>— I'm like that bird, Giròlamo said, I don't think it was only his self-esteem that was involved...Perhaps the boy was more attached to you than you wanted... It's torture to feel rejected by your loved one... And I confess that I did nothing to lessen the shock. Cruelty is a form of revenge to which I seem to have a particular liking.</p>
<p>— The truth, that's all you revealed to him: it's true that, quite unconsciously, I had chosen him for your resemblance. It was like a lifeline that fate was putting right under my nose: after such a long absence, to find someone who could remind me of you in certain aspects, it was like a balm on my impatience and frustrations, Rio... When things got out of hand, when we met in Vinci a few days ago, I didn't deal with the situation at all, failed to consider the consequences that it could have for him, I only thought about us, I was dazzled.</p>
<p>— I know, Giròlamo laughed, you almost punctured my neck!</p>
<p>— You see! What's the point of being clever in everyday life if you lose your head when feelings get in the way?</p>
<p>— You can't have it all, in life, Artista: you've got your flamboyant spontaneity, I've got my icy discipline.... I suppose we have to put up with them, with all the inconveniences that go along with them.</p>
<p>— Your self-discipline is less icy, though.</p>
<p>— With you! But don't fool yourself, I'm still the same snake you met the first time.</p>
<p>— Hell ! What will become of such an association?" Leo finally smiled on this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they reached Forli, in the depths of the night, the two horsemen shivered before the gloomy Rocca di Ravaldino. Giròlamo because it evoked for him Zita, slave, then companion, whom he would never forget; Leo because the place was a threat in itself, a mass of stone, from the start hostile and unbending.</p>
<p>"If I had agreed to marry Caterina, I would have received a more welcoming home as a wedding present, Giròlamo commented, but as I said, neither she nor I were attracted by the prospect!"</p>
<p>An old man came to greet them at the heavy front door: "They're here!" he announced, pointing to another door in the entrance hall, under which a thin line of light emphasised the darkness all around... "Your opponents and supporters have all come, regardless of age... Even old Fregoso has come, along with his tics and rheumatism ! the man grumbled, reprovingly.</p>
<p>— I see, said the Count, the Ordelaffi clan against the clan of the papacy... The assembly will be turbulent, it would be better if I summoned all the spirits of eloquence!</p>
<p>— Milord! the old man protested.</p>
<p>— Yes, I know, I am blaspheming, Ercole. Have there been any messages for me lately? I am waiting for secret instructions.</p>
<p>— Yes, my boy, they're waiting for you in your safe.</p>
<p>— All right, well... Meet my friend Leonardo da Vinci. Will you offer him something to eat and drink and make him comfortable?</p>
<p>— Of course! Very honoured to have you here, Maestro!</p>
<p>— Follow Ercole, Artista. As you will have understood, I will be here for a few hours, trying to subdue the demon that is tearing apart my friends and enemies. Make yourself at home. Ercole will show you around this austere place."</p>
<p>With that, he gave a friendly pat on Leo's shoulder and left him in the care of Ercole, who seemed to have an unusual relationship with the master of the house: there had been, almost in the same sentence, a "Milord" and a "my boy" that surprised Leonardo. He smiled at his guide and followed him, docile and curious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hours had passed. In spite of everything that should have prevented him from sleeping, Leo had let himself be seduced by the gorgeous white sheets and the thick mattress of the bed that sat in his bedroom like a majestic piece of furniture, and laid down, even as snatches of thoughts related to the journey, to Atalante, to the fate of Zo and Sophia and even to his old horse, intermingled and overlapped like rebellious colours on his palette.</p>
<p>Seated outside, on the balcony, he first saw the moon, glorious, bold, pushing away large grey clouds on an ultramarine background. A tree stood out against this sky and outlined on the moon the tops of two towers of a mosque.A light summer breeze was shaking the tip of Leo's high, pointed hat.He was a magician and was dressed in a long, wide, white kaftan embroidered with gold patterns. Birds with beaks wide open that seemed to be chuckling. He had rested his cheek in the palm of his left hand and was on the verge of dozing off, while in this peaceful scene the fire raging to the right of the moon seemed to be trying to attract his attention.</p>
<p>Suddenly, something tickled his ear, and, with a gesture of his free hand, he lazily chased it away. A spider, hanging on its thread, under the large Carrara marble fireplace, was stubbornly trying to make him hear reason by penetrating his ear. It whispered, in a childish voice: "You can't sleep, Artista! Look around you and see the abyss that is awaiting you!"</p>
<p>Suddenly it stung him cruelly in the throat, he woke up screaming.</p>
<p>With the tip of his dagger on his jugular, Giròlamo quietlythreatened: "Who do you think you are, Da Vinci?Who gave you permission to sleep? Tonight, again, you are my slave, have you forgotten that?</p>
<p>No, Master, Leo smiled, of course, I'll do whatever your voice commands!"</p>
<p>The spider was now running the whole length of his spine.</p>
<p>He shivered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Crosswinds.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Giròlamo doesn't approve of Leo's last invention... We all know what this means.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>December 25, 1481</p><p>« I’m not going to use this war machine, Leo, don’t even bother to insist!» said the Count as he stepped away from the table, where Leonardo had laid out his sketches and plans. Sophia looked up from her book, Zo lost interest in his tarot deck. The tone was definitive, bordering on reproach. <br/>Leonardo had been working on this tank since they had arrived in Forli, he was proud about it and was’nt going to appreciate this categorical refusal.</p><p>The Count resumed, seeing the amazement on his face: « I know it would be terribly effective, but, tell me, who do you think would suffer the most damage?<br/>Leo frowned<br/>—What do you mean?<br/>—My question is simple: who is your tank going to hurt?<br/>—But ... it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s both a long-range machine that will fire cannonballs ... the added value is that the sharp blades on its sides will allow it to push forward amongst the troops, as they’re turning on themselves, in unison with the wheels... Don’t you see? Don’t tell me you don’t see the major advantage it will give you over your enemies!<br/>—I see it all too well, actually: compared to yours, I confess my imagination has its limits in certain areas, but not in picturing a battlefield, believe me! When I imagine the effects of your damn engine, I see rivers of blood.<br/>—And tell me, since when does this move you? </p><p>Giròlamo glanced at him angrily, but, clearly, something was preventing him from giving a spontaneous answer.<br/>Zo had fathomed what it was all about, and he understood the reason behind their host’s silence: a certain reserve, or some discomfort about the interpretation that could be given to his reply.</p><p>—So? Leo prodded, are you going to tell me?<br/>—I’ve just told you: it’s going to be a massacre, a large-scale slaughter.<br/>—That’s what war is about, isn’t it? That’s the true face of battles all over the world! What’s the matter with you, all of a sudden? <br/>Feeling Riario’s unease, guessing his aversion to such a confession, Zo involved himself in it<br/>—The horses! It’s not so common, but for once, I agree with our lordship... Your men will still be able to walk, but not the beasts that carry them! he said, pointing to the table where the plans had been laid out.<br/>Leo’s jaw dropped. He looked at them both in turn, then sat down, as if in shock:<br/>—Is that it? he whispered, in disbelief, to his lover.<br/>—Why should that surprise you?<br/>Leo stood up and said, joining his hands together as if in prayer:<br/>—I need some clarification here. Does that mean that using my invention against infantry wouldn’t cause you the same ethical problem?</p><p>Giròlamo was staring him out, challengingly. He could sense one of those ethical quarrels that never have any issue. No one ever being won over. He sighed, annoyed:<br/>—I wouldn’t be, let’s say, captivated by the sight, but the principle would indeed seem less loathsome to me.<br/>Leo spun around and then rubbed his hands over his face:<br/>—So you give horses preference over soldiers? he asked, incredulous.<br/>—Let’s make it clear, da Vinci (Zo winced at this). If we could go through this war without casualties of any kind, I’d be delighted... But once and for all: men wage war on each other, sometimes, they initiate it for a trifle; they’re there by their own doing. The horses are NOT.<br/>—But ... wait ... you do eat meat, as far as I know.<br/>—Like all animals that fall into the category of predators, yes... But the thinking animal that I am, tries to avoid any unnecessary slaughter. When people eat meat, it’s with the purpose of living, not killing, not possessing, stealing or passing the time ... It’s the same for all carnivores. Using horses on a battlefield, on the other hand, is barbaric ... even more so if you plan to cut off their legs! Is it really so hard to understand? ... If humans are superior to other animals, it’s their duty not to slaughter them unnecessarily.<br/>—Phew! Another precept of the Holy Church, no doubt?<br/>—Don’t always bring my principles down to religion, will you!<br/>—How could I do otherwise? You’re full of it, of your fucking Catholicism! »</p><p>If it weren’t for his pride, Leo would probably not have finished that sentence. As he pronounced them, he could taste the poison of these words on his tongue. But to him, an immediate retraction had an equally detestable taste of failure. Only very rarely, if ever, was he able to immediately recant, to admit a wrong in the heat of discussion.</p><p>However, he turned away from his opponent and cast a sideways glance at his lifelong friend: of course, Zo guessed that he realized he had gone too far, he knew him so well!</p><p>When he heard the door of the room reserved for them, open and close again, he turned to him and grumbled: « I know... I got carried away again! But for God’s sake... I’ve been working on this damn machine for a week now, couldn’t he have stopped me sooner?<br/>—When would he have been able to perform such magic? Nobody comes near you when you’re working, you know that damn well! You can’t even tolerate a bloody breath, you can’t listen to a fucking thing. Besides, don’t add bad faith to intolerance: these rotating blades, you added them on the last day ... and may I remind you that the Count also has other things to deal with, he can’t spend his time raving about your bloody creative prowess! And on top of it all, he’s right, it would be a horror! Because, trust me, sparrow head: on a battlefield, guys aren’t going to waste their time or even think about finishing off the beasts ... the mounts are going to die a bloody agony long before anyone worries about them, eh!<br/>Leo sat down, his eyes far away:<br/>—I hadn’t thought of that!<br/>—No, you hadn’t. When you create, you’re in pure abstraction and that’s normal, Sophia said: your whole mind is on solving technical problems .<br/>—Yes, and that’s how I found myself in the middle of the Otranto massacre, wondering if it was really me, who had designed those doomsday machines! <br/>—That’s right! Zo said.<br/>Leo was pacing up and down the room:<br/>I’m going to get rid of those sharp rotating blades... I promised myself that I wouldn’t create any more destruction devices, and, see, I’m back to it, barely a year later! Will someone ever stop me, for God’s sake? »</p><p>***</p><p>Giovanni was expected to spend a few days in Forli. His wife, Giovanna, would not be there: as the daughter of Federico de Montefeltro, she didn’t want to hear anything that might be said between the cousins, allies of the Pope, and therefore adversaries of her father in the simmering feud between Venice and Ferrara.</p><p>Giovanni didn’t complain about it: political quarrels rubbed off on Giovanna’s mood, already armed with an unkind character.<br/>Moreover, she was resentful of Giròlamo, who had stolen Filomena from her. Not that she used to like the latter too much, but once and for all, the people around her had to learn that what belonged to her belonged to her, end of story.</p><p>The dining room was choking with silence. The morning scene between the Count and Leonardo had frozen the air, which couldn’t be warmed by the half-trunk burning in the hearth. This cold was, of course, only inside them, but everyone could feel it. Everything tended to change when Leo and Giròlamo clashed.</p><p>While waiting for his cousin, the Count had served a glass of wine and Ercole had made sure that the cook prepared a few small things to be tasted, so that they could wait.</p><p>"Will young Andrea Doria accompany your cousin, Count? asked Zo, in an attempt to warm up the atmosphere.<br/>—I don’t think so, Zo. On a day like this, he will probably wish to stay with his family... Besides, I’m sure a young soldier has other occupations to keep him in Genoa, when he’s not on duty. <br/>—He’s a bit young to have already joined an army, isn’t he?<br/>—Our Nico was even younger when he joined the troops against the Turks with you! He’s three years younger than Andrea!<br/>—Damn, it’s true! For a long time, we considered him as a kid, and then, suddenly, not at all... It feels strange.<br/>—I know. He matured a lot in a very short time. I think that his experience as an advisor to the Regent of Florence forced him to worry about adult problems. However, he has always been a very thoughtful boy, in my opinion.<br/>—I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen him gawking and staring at nothing. Who would have thought that nincompoop would become so wise! <br/>The Count opened his mouth to make a remark, but then he changed his mind: this was not the day to thint at the weakness of people who think too much, but to really be interested in the concrete. Instead, he declared:<br/>—I hope he won’t stay too long in Naples, there are better masters to be found than Ferrante. »</p><p>That’s when Ercole came to announce the visitor. <br/>Giovanni’s impressive frame and gestures immediately occupied the whole room. He shouted, walking straight on to his cousin, arms wide open: I’m not coming alone, my cousin ... look who’s with me! he smiled, half turning to the door.<br/>Filomena entered, the two little girls on her arms.<br/>Giròlamo ran to meet them:<br/>—At last!" he said, with a broad smile on his lips. I thought this day would never come! Tell me you’re all right, all three of you, Mena.<br/>—I won’t hide from you that I don’t intend to get back in a carriage like that any time soon, Milord: my back is like a pile of olive pits... Speaking of which, the harvest must be finished, now, by the way.<br/>He patted her shoulder:<br/>—Very well... I’ll introduce you to my friends and you sit down with us for a while...<br/>—With you? You don’t think about it! the tall young lady chuckled. The sun hits a bit hard in Calabria, it’s true, but not to the point of making me lose my common sense.<br/>—So ... will you finally give her to me? he pretended to scold, holding out his arms.<br/>She handed him his daughter, he exclaimed:<br/>—Can one really change so much in so little time? My goodness, what a difference!<br/>—At that age you have to change twice more rapidly, eh! There’s a lot of progress to be made...<br/>He remembered that he was supposed to introduce his friends: <br/>—You already know Zo ... This is Maestro Leonardo da Vinci and his sister, Sophia! Friends, may I introduce Filomena Nannini, an angel of the home and the vineyard ... <br/>They all nodded their heads and Zo asked:<br/>—Tell me more about the harvest, Filomena!<br/>—The olive harvest, you mean, of course, Mr da Peretola? she joked.<br/>—Wine, woman, wine!<br/>—The barrels are awaiting your visit with the excitement of those who want to lose weight rapidly!<br/>—Ha! Ha! They can count on me, my angel, he said, adding a wink.<br/>—Enough wooing, Da Peretola ... hold little Lucia for me, so that I can greet my goddaughter properly. The Count passed the baby to him, and took the other child from her mother’s arms: how is she, Mena? Still having trouble sleeping?<br/>—No, sir, she has finally settled into Lucia’s rhythm, it makes life much easier.<br/>—Good! I’ve asked Ercole to prepare a nursery for you, not too close to the kitchen... How is Zo?<br/>—He turned out to be a bit of a pain for a few days after you left, but I finally found a solution to that: I sacrificed some of your workwear and put it in his favourite corner, behind the big armchair. It makes him feel better to smell your scent. I threatened Piero to tie him to an olive tree, naked and smeared with molasses if he didn’t take good care of the dog.<br/>— Ha! In that case, there’s nothing more to worry about!<br/>He gave her daughter back to her, she glanced at Zo from the side, hesitating to make her request, and then gave it a try:<br/>—Can I take Lucia back, sir? It will be time to satisfy the two little monsters.<br/>—Yes, of course... We too are going to eat: Zo is already pale with starvation, just look at him!  <br/>The fortune-teller came delicately to rest his light burden in the arms of the nurse, with a beam on his face:<br/>—She’s an angel, isn’t she? <br/>—Yes, when she hasn’t got some obsession on her mind, I guess you could say so... But beware whoever crosses her! she smiled back.<br/>Then she curtsied and followed Ercole, who had been waiting at the door.<br/>Everybody only realized that Leo hadn’t loosened his lips all this time, when he mocked:<br/>—A real, rosy, Christmas scene, wasn't it, Count?<br/>Everyone was surprised by this disdainful remark. <br/>Sophia whispered in his ear:<br/>— Sometimes I think there’s no way we can be brother and sister! What an idiot you are when you apply yourself to it!<br/>While Zo commented to the Count, in a low voice:<br/>— He’s just pissed off... He’ll get over it ! »<br/>Giròlamo blinked and put on a faint, constrained smile, but he knew better... </p><p>He knew what was brooding in Leo’s head and he did not like it at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Doubts.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leo doesn't know what is going on inside himself. He puts his anxiety on a feeling of jealousy, but isn't this a ruse ?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you're feeling a bit weak today, don't read this chapter now, just let it rest for some days... Maybe the next one will be more cheerful ? ;-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>January 1, 1482</p><p>Leonardo watched her sleeping, like a spy, hiding behind the open door, wondering if Filomena was really beautiful, or if he was the one who refused to see her as such. </p><p>Someone came in at that moment, carrying a candle. He saw his own reflection in the mirror. He looked twenty years older. Not yet an old man, but bitter enough on his lips to make one believe that he had gone through a whole century of misfortune and physical wear and tear.<br/>
This was the face jealousy gave you, a sullen, angry face. </p><p>Within a week he had forgotten all about the sun.</p><p>And yet, he had lived through worse events and, in a very short timespan, through mourning episodes that had shaken his convictions, his landmarks and his self-confidence... So, what was it that upset him like that?</p><p>Creatures of dream came in turn to wince in his mirror, taunting and mocking him.</p><p>Would this woman be better for Giròlamo than he was? Would the Count be tempted by the vitality of this woman on discovering that by his side were only the remains of a broken man, that ugly and disillusioned man in the mirror?</p><p>He started to talk to himself, in his head, while looking at the mirror. He knew that he had friends, but at this very moment, he was feeling lonelier than on the moon or in a dungeon forgotten by all. </p><p>He was awakened by the motion of the candlestick that was placed on a table, further away than Filomena's bed. Giròlamo leaned over a cradle and smiled. Leonardo suddenly knew that he was less important to him at that moment than a speck of dust.<br/>
He came out quietly from behind the door, like a thief cat<br/>
He thought he saw a movement In the feeble light, he ignored it, wishing that Rio hadn't seen him, that he had simply straightened himself up and moved towards the other cradle.</p><p>What an agony, though, to imagine the intimacy that these two had shared in their daily life of vineyards and olive trees!<br/>
To what degree had the closeness made a nest?<br/>
A mass was weighing on his heart and stomach as he walked away from the nursery.</p><p>Passing in front of the kitchen, he saw, hanging from a beam, the remains of a rabbit, and was taken aback. This was what was left of beauty when death had passed by, with its ugly brushes of a bad painter: a grimace in the mouth, chops curled up, glassy eyes and stiffness all over the body. A mere thing, an object lost in a junkyard, on top of which a smelly grey dust was accumulating.<br/>
To think that people stuffed animals, to create a morbid imitation of them! </p><p>For a week, he had been thinking and realizing that Giròlamo could never love humans as much as these beings, not all of them fragile, but in any case innocent. And he was right, of course, even if his own humanist fervour rebelled against this idea: in what way were humans worth more than their animal companions?<br/>
Man was incapable of offering love for no retribution whatsoever, most of the time, while the beasts did so all the time, it seemed to him, even up to the supreme sacrifice.<br/>
Because of this inner debate, he found himself lost in his own shoes. The Leonardo da Vinci of the past never doubted anything that originated from himself. Today, he was questioning everything.</p><p>He had to tell him!</p><p>As he made his way back upstairs, he suddenly found himself in the body of one of the horses that he had once intended to mutilate. The unbearable pain was telling of death, while dislocated images of his past as an animal flashed before his eyes. Each brutal shock of suffering agitated his body in a jolt, simultaneously arousing regret, and images of what had made up his life: gallops, petting or hitting, the blessings of food and water, the pantomime of the humans who had surrounded him... Smells of straw, of fellow horses, of a mare in heat, of the man who used to ride him... The frost of an early winter morning, the breeze of a summer evening. His whole life in an imitation of reality, fractured, cut off.</p><p>He had to approach Giròlamo, to confess to him, abandoning his pride, that yes, he had become his disciple; that yes, he had been wrong, that twisted mind of his, daring to imagine such a monstrosity!</p><p>The mirror had opened to reveal a shocking truth: no matter how much he searched his memory, he had to admit that never, in his insane fever of creation and discovery, had he really given humanity precedence over ideas.<br/>
Despite the laws of mathematics and physics, it was always abstraction that had prevailed over everything. His friends had no body, no life of their own, he himself forgot to eat, once the idea knocked on the door. </p><p>He waited for Rio at the top of the stairs. He arrived with an apple and a knife in his hands, a smile on his face...<br/>
"We haven't said anything to each other for seven days... I want to tell you that I have thought about it all : you now have a disciple, my project was monstrous. I regret what I said, Leo whispered.<br/>
After a long silence, Giròlamo handed him a piece of the apple he was busy cutting and looked at it from underneath his long black fringe :<br/>
- You don't. Your revolt was sincere and I understood it that very day.<br/>
- I was mostly disappointed, but...<br/>
- Disappointed with what, Leo?<br/>
- With your refusal of my project, I had invested myself in it, I was happy to offer you this incredible weapon...<br/>
- Look deeper. What you're telling me now is not the real cause of your disappointment. »</p><p>A nascent sun was shining through the narrow window of the landing on which they had stopped, playing with the rustic stone protrusions of the wall.<br/>
Since Leo had decided to bet on honesty, he dug inside himself, while accepting a new slice of apple that the Count was handing him. He fully understood his partner's doubts when a shocking thought crossed his mind: "Do you really want to be that man's disciple?" He was startled, his heart quickened.<br/>
"Well? Did you find out the truth? the Count asked, in a voice duller than ever... I think I can tell from your expression of panic. So, I'm going to voice it for you, to spare you a confession that I know is difficult: you are disappointed to see what I have become during this year of wine and olive growing. You once fell in love with a dangerous man, and now you find yourself with a peaceful peasant... This may please your friend Zo, the humanist pacifist, but not the fiery Leonardo da Vinci ... I'm not mistaken, am I?<br/>
Leo was pale, he rebelled:<br/>
- I ... No, this can't be it, Rio! I refuse to let it be it ... I'm jealous of that woman ... you can't be jealous of a stranger for someone you don't care about, can you ?<br/>
Giròlamo couldn't help but laugh briefly, in spite of what was going on here:<br/>
- Of Filomena? She's so precious to me that it's hard to conceive, but I'm not in love with her and I don't desire her... It was you I was thinking of, on those nights when my body was crying out for relief, Artista. It would never have occurred to me to go and knock on her door! ... But the other problem remains, and is more serious, because I am afraid I cannot return to being the cruel serpent and the broken child that you loved in me. I was cured. My hands gave the child his freedom as they squeezed my father's throat and the meadows of Calabria engulfed the serpent ... Lucia's arrival in my life perfected the work.<br/>
Downstairs, the house was awakening, underlining the thick silence between them.<br/>
- I refuse this possibility, Leo tried again, in a chopped and muted, though stubborn voice.<br/>
- But you see the reality of it, don't you?<br/>
- No! I-Don't-Want-It! Give me time, Moonlight... I'm lost. Rio, I don't want to live separate from you any more... Let me stay!<br/>
- Of course you can stay, love! For as long as you want... Seeing the tears streaming down Leo's cheeks, he let go of the apple and knife to hold him tight: Don't cry, Artista, I don't want you to lie to yourself, just to spare us both... it was a wonderful story, too beautiful for either of us to stoop to cheating... "<br/>
His breath was gone. It's hard to console the one you love when you're overwhelmed with grief yourself.</p><p>They were clinging to each other fiercely, as if they were clinging to the miracle they both knew they had been experiencing.</p><p>"He is my blood, as I am his“, the Count.recalled …<br/>
« This is suicide! » he didn’t say.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The race is on...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leo and Giròlamo step onto a dangerous path...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've been listening to the following song while working out this chapter... no wonder it's dark...</p><p>https://youtu.be/D_bE7u70K0c</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>March 15, 1482</p><p>Ercole announced, mysteriously: « A visit for the gentlemen Da Vinci and Da Peretola! » then withdrew, a smile on his lips, without saying any more. <br/>They both immediately thought Atalante had the nerve to come and claim what he felt was his, namely the artist's full attention.<br/>But it was Niccolò Machiavelli who entered, triumphant and happy to surprise them.</p><p>« You ill-behaved little scoundrel ! What news? exclaimed Zo, who ran up to give him a hug.<br/>- Nico! How did you find us? Leo asked, getting up as well, with a broad smile on his face.<br/>- I went to Florence first, of course. It was a guy in your workshop who told me you'd been, so to speak, abducted by the Count.<br/>- Yeah... well, don't believe a word of it of course, Leo grumbled.<br/>- It's one sad, rejected lover of the Maestro, Zo sneered, with a mocking look at Leo and a knowing wink at the young man.<br/>Leonardo returned to his place at the big table in the warm, large "all-purpose room" and said :<br/>- Rio will be happy to see you when he comes back! <br/>- "Rio", eh? Nico grinned, putting a lot of innuendo in his tone.<br/>After greeting Sophia, he sat at the table, next to Zo, not without noticing his Maestro's wrinkled forehead. The explanation was not long in coming:<br/>- Yeah, well... we've been a bit at odds lately, though.<br/>- You tell me! The relationship must be rather explosive, right?<br/>- That's an understatement! Zo commented, serving him a mug of wine.<br/>- Thanks, Zo. So... He's not here right now, of course ? I heard that war was about to be declared openly between Venice and Ferrara... It's been brewing for a long time!<br/>- Indeed! He's been on a diplomatic mission since January. The excommunication of the visdominio by the Bishop of Ferrara was very timely: war has not yet been declared, but it won't be long now! Venice wants to get its hands on the salt exploitations of Ferrara! They have been spurring the Este house for years...<br/>- And Venice made a pact with Sixtus in January... Giròlamo, therefore, sided with them, I suppose? But... tell me more. How did he escape his uncle’s revenge? »</p><p>In the lively mood of reunion, Zo and Leo began to recount the events of the past year, while Sophia watched them from the sidelines. She had been too little acquainted with the young man in Otranto to be able to form a picture of him and was curious about his close relationship with Zo and her brother. <br/>She rather liked what she was finding out. He was curious and playful by nature, that is, in a much more discreet version than the other two men, and had the same thirst for knowledge as she and her brother. On the other hand, he seemed to possess Zo's generosity, which she and Leo were a little short of.</p><p>He had spent that year in Naples, as he had suggested when they separated and had stayed with a distant cousin, whose opulent library had both charmed him and helped him enormously. He had read all the great classical authors, plunged into study and oblivion, and had shaken out of his busy trance just a fortnight earlier, gripped by a devouring desire to see his friends again.<br/>They talked, talked, brought back memories and drank quite a lot...</p><p>It was in this jolly atmosphere that Giròlamo appeared unexpectedly, after two and a half months' absence...<br/>He nodded his head, looking lost, before finally finding his words.<br/>« Nico? When did you arrive?<br/>Nico, like the other friends gathered here, was staring at him in disbelief. His hair in spikes stuck in mud, his eyes ringed, his jacket torn and stained, the scar on his left cheek... It was clear that he hadn't just been parleying. There had undoubtedly been some fighting on top of the negotiations!<br/>Finally, he took three big steps in the direction of the young man to hug him: <br/>— God, it's good to see you again! »</p><p>***</p><p>« I was going to die, the Count was saying, my thoughts kept bursting out and recomposed themselves in a painting that resembled nothing earthly, made up only of colours and bits of memories of everything I had experienced. But a single thought connected all these images, a name that I have no knowing of ever having seen incarnated ... in this maze of reminiscences, it insinuated itself, obsessed me. Does anyone among you happen to know one Giuseppe Salvadoni? »</p><p>Giròlamo stood with his hands folded behind his back, as if he were standing in front of his judges, as if he were the guest, waiting for permission to sit down. The others nodded their heads in denial. </p><p>To his embarrassment, Leonardo felt himself blushing, his heartbeat quickened and his hand was stained with the charcoal he was still holding. He put it down and dried his palms on his trousers. <br/>This Giròlamo was rekindling the fire that the other, the father, had smothered.</p><p>« Then two kids appeared, he went on. One of them pointed a fake weapon carved out of a long piece of wood at me. It didn't look like any of the firearms I've seen so far. A sort of musket, but in a more sophisticated version... I thought of you, Artista, this is the kind of thing you would have liked to invent... But back to my maze... That man, whose name I kept hearing in my mind, I knew he was a tyrant. It was like a piece of information written in watermark behind the surname, you see, like an indissociable background. I had forgotten what I had seen or experienced just before my fall, but a smell of cellar dampness had attached itself to my clothes as well as to my skin and even to my mood. I had the impression that I was moving in a world where nothing was material any more, where everything around me was only a concept, an abstraction. I was extremely traumatised, overwhelmed by it. Some kind of overreaction, for, after all, my life was no longer in danger, so why this near panicky feeling? Perhaps I was worried for my mental health, at the sight of this immateriality of my world? <br/>And then, in the burgeoning sun, I was still lying on the bank of my stream, my head almost bursting because of the dull sound of the blades of a nearby little water mill.<br/>I put this delirium down to a story that one of my men had told me, the story of his life, full of misfortunes and pitfalls. Perhaps he had slipped me the name of this stranger, this tyrant, without my being able to remember it myself? By vocation, I always lend an ear to the confidences of my men, if they take the step of sharing them with me, their leader, it means that they really need to be listened to. Battles stir up a lot of questions, and some men get rid of them in this way. It is an enigma, most of the time, like an ink stain on the parchment of their soul. Something obsesses them, but they are unable to identify it, to put an exact name to the problem. Their mind shields itself from the turmoil by chasing away the questions, but  eventually, in perilous situations, faced with the possibility of death, the ghost reappears and haunts them.<br/>- It is a beautiful vocation to listen to your soldiers, Count, Nico said. <br/>- They need to place their trust in me and, in return, I need their sacrifice. The least I can do is to give them some of my attention. The only pleasure  war offers is that of comradeship. There is pleasure in confiding, there is, likewise, pleasure in discovering destinies. I have heard beggars' songs more thrilling and beautiful than many courtly rumblings. Some of them have been with me for a long time.<br/>In short, as I don't like to suffer beyond a certain threshold, it is without any pleasure I can assure you,  that I found myself on our physicist's table. The man is old and no longer very enthusiastic. From memory, he never really was; he had dreamed of other stages for his exploits at the time he chose to study medicine. He had no doubt contemplated the crumpling of the wings of the nursing sisters' veils only to end up in exile in a kind of slaughterhouse, amidst the complaints and howls of the wounded.<br/>So there's already been a battle? Zo asked. Is it war already?<br/>- Only punctual attacks, nothing really admitted. But yes, we are already fighting, supposedly without the permission of the camps involved. Roberto Malatesta, General of the Republic of Venice, reports them, but for the time being, neither Rome nor Venice mentioned them. Ferrara will not be a little warlike stroll, this much is already clear... And here I am, therefore, momentarily at rest... But for how long, I cannot say. Everything lies in the hands of the heads of states. »</p><p>For a few moments, Leo, who was watching him from underneath his locks of hair, saw him wobbling very slightly, like a drunken man who would still want to stand up straight in front of his superior, but unable to control his body. He finally decided to pronounce his first words:<br/>« Are you going to wait until you collapse for good, or are you finally going to sit down among us?<br/>- I can't wait to see my daughter, Artista... I feel that if I follow your advice, I won't be able to get up and go down to the nursery.<br/>- She's probably not there at the moment, Count,Sophia interceded, I saw Filomena take the two little girls into the garden just about an hour ago ...<br/>- So that's where I'm going too... I'll meet you after this little walk and a bath. I am surprised you can stand the stench coming from my whole person and my clothes!<br/>- I was going to point it out to you, your Highness, but then I remembered that our entente cordiale is probably still too young for that kind of remark! Zo joked.<br/>Giròlamo laughed:<br/>— It's good to have you back too, Nemesis. »</p><p>***</p><p>Leo had gone to his room to escape the comments of his sister and friends about Riario, his fatherhood, his ventures and his war. He was walking around in circles, too absorbed in his acrimonious thoughts to hear the various muffled sounds coming from the next room... </p><p>For the most part, he cursed himself. The knee-high boots, the graceful slowness of the gestures and movements, the care taken with the hair and beard, the dark look and, above all, that voice, which seemed to come from the foundation of his entire history and even his soul, were all part of Riario's charm. <br/>In the real world, this kind of magnetism remained unexplained. But then, there was still so much to be discovered, in the mystery cabinets of the world, so many feelings that could not yet be scientifically demonstrated!</p><p>That man was his life. </p><p>What attached him to Rio was beyond the physical, the material. The fact that he was beautiful was just a coincidence, one extra attraction, like the sugar on top of the panpepato. <br/>But underneath this simple appeal, there was an unknown, tyrannical force, waves within the two of them that intertwined and, once joined, increased each individual's life drive tenfold. </p><p>This was unbearable, it left him no free will at all!</p><p>The decision, however, was easy to take, it was obvious, against all odds: he had to give in and stay by Giròlamo's side. But, for the love of a challenge, which they both relished, he had to postpone this decision. <br/>Yes, he would engage in that game of struggle to the death his lover had deemed relevant to commence.  <br/>If necessary, Leo would resort to illegal means to win the game, to bend him to his will. He would give him a glimpse of what it’s like to be in the hands of an executioner. He, who had inflicted suffering so many times, would learn the art of being a victim, with all the stamina it requires. </p><p>Yes, he would end up taking this unlikely decision to submit, despite this new passion for mawkishness which had taken over the Count... But he would only surrender after some time fighting him. <br/>Humanity was made that way: it liked to submit, at times, as much as to dominate, at others. <br/>So, he would make an incursion into the lower level of his morals, plunging into the disposition of mind that had enabled him to invent death. He would savour evil like a tasty syrup, that lingers on the taste buds and spreads the pleasure of delight throughout body and mind.<br/>The disappointment at the turn their relationship had taken was lingering, haunting, but less violent, as the excitement of the coming trial was taking over. <br/>As a man of science, he knew that one must burn oneself with acid and powder before reaching the ecstasy of success. He knew that he had to pierce the butterfly with pins in order to secure it in the final spot that he wanted to give it. </p><p>He was wrenched from these considerations about humanity and the challenge that awaited him by an extraordinary thud coming from the next room. He rushed to the door of the communicating chamber.</p><p>« How stupid ! I've fallen down! said Giròlamo, sheepishly, when Leo rushed into his room, I passed one leg over the edge of the basin and landed on the floor like an infant!<br/>- You haven't recovered and you're sleep-deprived, that's all! No wonder... Come on, I'll give you a hand.<br/>- I don't think that...<br/>- I help you, Rio, nothing more. I'm not pretending that I won't enjoy the sight, but I'll leave it at that. »</p><p>He was lying. His intentions were quite different. He wanted to test his opponent, to find out where they both stood , before launching or blocking the next attack.</p><p>« So, you really had to make that trip to the garden before you freshened up and got some rest ? Your daughter isn't even aware yet of who you are, you know that, don't you? Leo grumbled, pressing the sponge over Giròlamo's head. A brown liquid dripped from the Count's hair, the stuck strands still resisting the shower.<br/>- Stop that now, Artista! I know how you feel about my choices on this subject, there's no need to add to it.<br/>- You must believe that freedom weighs on you. No sooner have you got rid of the chains your father had put around your life than you choose others, knowingly!<br/>- You mean others that you didn't yourself set?<br/>- I wouldn't have hampered you. Never! Leo whispered, bending over to tell him so,  breathing in his ear.<br/>The water in the basin got a swirl. <br/>The body is treacherous and sometimes plays against the will. <br/>Leo knew all the better that his manoeuver was bearing fruit as he himself felt struck by a new attack of lust. Since Rio had appeared at the door a little earlier, all the symptoms had been there. Now they were raging again.<br/>- I know what's going on inside you, the Count stated: the soldier is back and you are once again tempted by the scars and bruises.<br/>- Dare to tell me that you are not!<br/>The artist's hands lingered, his right palm inching down  the Count's chest, towards his belly and...<br/>An iron handcuff tightened around Leo's wrist, raging, powerful :<br/>- Not an inch further!<br/>- Rio, it's stupid...<br/>- I said no, Leo: either you take the whole of me, or you settle for our current agreement as unwavering friends, but nothing more than friends. If you can love only one half of me, I won't sacrifice the other half for the love of you.<br/>Leo quickly freed his wrist from the less violent grip, wiped his hands and crouched down beside the basin, one elbow on the rim, to look Giròlamo in the eyes with an expression the Count did not know him by:<br/>- Why do you decide, of your own free will, to lower yourself to the level of  a mere commoner, Captain General? Do their shitty little lives suddenly seem enviable to you? Do you want to go back to your vineyards and olive trees, is that it?<br/>Riario batted his eyelids and squeezed his lips for just a fraction of a second, long enough for Leo, who knew him well, to notice. <br/>- There is something noble, whatever you think, in the simplicity of such a life. A feeling of belonging to the earth, time and silence...<br/>- And to insignificance!<br/>- Yes, to consented insignificance, to peace. Pride may well suit you, Artista — You intend to leave your name in history and no one can blame you. I will never do anything, ever, to divert you from this path... I have praised your merits around me often enough for you to take my word for it. But I, I long for the commonplace, Leo, for the serenity it provides. So understand that too.<br/>In spite of the sympathy, the love, the understanding of this aspiration, Leo opted for the next move inf the game he was taking to heart to play :<br/>- I can't. I can't accept that you, a perceptive, intelligent, courageous man, renounce the mark you can leave on our century.<br/>- So we’ve hit an impasse, I guess, and friendship is all we have left as an option… unless we want to end up hating each other, just as we did in the beginning!<br/>Leo stood up without taking his eyes off him: <br/>- Do you want me to speak the truth? Maybe I'd prefer that to tepidity. While hating you, I already loved you, back then, Rio.<br/>- So did I... And don't go imagining that I ignore what game you are playing. It's perilous, but perhaps inevitable. »<br/>Leo nodded, Giròlamo replied in the same way.</p><p>The race was on. But, suddenly, Leo wasn't so sure he would ever want to surrender.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I found no birthdate for Giròlamo Riario, so I decided to make him a Scorpio... what do you think about it ? ;-)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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